With each stiff breeze
a shower of autumn leaves,
set free to roam
paint the deck bronze red.
After a night of wind and rain
they rearrange, spread
into intertwined spirals,
a forest of fallen leaves.
A reminder that everything changes.
Now you see it or feel it
now you don’t. And what
are we but a parade passing
in the vastness of time/space.
A blink on a continuum.
—
Laurel Feigenbaum began writing in her eighties. Poetry is her way of exploring and coping with the world in which we live and the inevitable changes that come. She is the mother of three, grandmother of seven, and great-grandmother of eight. Her work can be found in The Amsterdam Quarterly, The Marin Poetry Center Anthology, and her recent book Life In No Ordinary Time.
