Written by Marcescence – Don’t Let Go
A little beech haiku and PhotoPoetry
Marcescence hang tight
Thin, dry, pale, like skin so old
Tremble in delight
The picture in my mind, of the beech leaves, life passed, doesn’t match the photo here, they look upbeat and not downcast.
Sometimes I think of the beech leaves like old weathered hands that have moved, and felt, and formed so much. Then at the end, when they are thin, and gnarled, clinging to life, hoping for another’s touch.
Here are these leaves that flutter in the wind, they clamor in their movement, in protest they refuse to let go.
Death has come yet still it clings to life, and from one to many, each of them sing when the winds blow.
What is that noise in the woods I hear on a March day when seasons contest, winter fights and spring insists.
Is it the paper thin leaf that does shudder with a mere breath of air, producing its song, around its stem so twists?
Or is it the boisterous litter of man, a wrinkled and dried paper bag that is wrapped in the web of twigs and stems?
Thankfully, no, it’s not of man, but one of our Creator’s instruments in the forest, among nature’s gems.
When all else is still and the only sound is that of silence, the slightest whirl makes the leaves move and be heard.
My focus turned each time, loud enough to cover my foot fall, as though I am silent where they have been stirred.
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