The leaves don’t care about the way they fall,
waves how they crash.
The pupa will still wrap itself in a cocoon and emerge as a butterfly.
One soft wing unfolding at a time.
The deer will continue to graze on the green lawn every morning as fog
sifts through the valley.
The spider to spin it’s web.
Geese will V overhead on their winter migration.
Bulbs will tuck themselves into soil waiting for Spring’s warmth.
The moon will fade in and out of the sky, stars will shape themselves.
Squirrels will hide their winter’s bounty as bears begin to hibernate.
Whales will begin to journey along their chosen routes.
Already the mornings have cooled, evenings shortened.
Still the sky is ablaze with color for each transition.
Still the sun will defuse the day with its light.
The caterpillar will inch its way along a leaf,
flowers unpack their petals.
This world to spin.
—
Laurel Maxwell is a poet from Santa Cruz, CA whose work is inspired by life’s mundane, and the natural world. Her work has appeared at baseballballard.com, coffecontrails, phren-z, Verse-Virtual, Tulip Tree Review, and Yellow Arrow Vignette. Her creative fiction was a finalist for Women on Writing Flash Fiction Contest. Her piece A Still Life was nominated for Best of the Net by Yellow Arrow Publishing. She has a chapbook forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in 2025. When not writing Laurel enjoys putting her feet in the sand, reading, traveling, and trying not to make too much of a mess baking in a too small kitchen. She works in education.
