Writers’ Challenge #4

I heard on the radio – I think it was last year- that leaves don’t just waft gently from the trees in the autumn, as poets and artists might have us all believe. Rather, they are pushed from the leaves, in a seasonal attempt of the tree to save its branches from breaking under heavy snow. That’s why the leaves that are on the ground are all different colors, in various stages of life or death; they “are released” at various times. Ah, nature! A wellspring of fascination, you are!

In celebration, I have a new writer’s challenge for you all, and this is it: Write a poem, song or piece of prose that includes these lines:

The autumn leaves
don’t fall from the trees
They jump

Oooh! Intriguing, non?

I am very interested to see what you come up with, so come on! Come up with something! Post or email me and I’ll put it on the blog at a later date. Happy Writing!

2 thoughts on “Writers’ Challenge #4

  1. Winter nights get really pushy
    They show up early to parties
    And stay way too long
    They take over, wrapping arms around windows
    Chilling partygoers to the bone
    Suddenly, we outstay welcome
    Not wanting to deal with winter head on, alone
    No coffee, more wine please
    Where did everybody go?
    Taxi? No! I’m just around the corner
    Last call, bundled
    When will it be warm again?
    Will it be warm again?
    A frozen walk home interrupted by visions
    Spring beckons; another reality
    But the thaw seems impossible,
    Saved for a new life altogether
    Spring belongs to fresh souls
    A new pair of wide, baby eyes
    With a neck too soft to support the head
    A scene on the other side of glass
    Blooms and crawls with life
    Peering in, we, with strong, but aching necks
    Squint at the bright color,
    Where are my glasses?
    A bio-sphere bubble
    A bright sunny place, out of the reach
    Of blue, longing fingertips
    Our quiet tapping on spring’s shell gets louder
    The snow drifts burying us up to our noses
    Fists tight with fear and cold, pound then stop
    Helplessly marveling at the buds, shoots and tendrils
    The bursting green leaves wink at us through the glass
    They are on to the joke
    While we have missed the set-up, the twist
    Never mind the punch line
    The trees know things
    Leaves understand the score and do what needs doing
    they see that grren is temporary
    red and brown looms
    The autumn leaves
    Don’t fall from the trees
    They jump
    Denying winter the terrible game of keep away
    They leave well before the host starts brewing coffee and hints
    And we grudgingly learn to step around patches of ice

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