journal of a writing man
Work in Progress
Leaf-henge
Overnight the small garden tree
has shed its leaves. Without fuss,
quietly, it has formed a thick circle
on the lawn, beneath naked branches.
In the early dew-misted light
it seems druidic, somehow, a perfect
leaf-henge laying there, waiting for
noon, when the wind will rise
and, randomly, disperse it.
John Bailey
Lincolnshire, November 2004
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