Ellen Kline McLeod lives in South Carolina with her husband and 3 children. She stirs together a childhood in rural Georgia, past careers in advertising and teaching, marriage, motherhood, and a deep love of words to cook up poetry. Her poem After Praise for the Leaving appeared here as part of Contributor Series 9: If Men Had Ears in July 2011. Ellen’s first full-length collection of poetry is entering the final stages of production and will be released by unbound CONTENT this fall. Visit her blog.
Leaves
By Ellen Kline McLeod
By Ellen Kline McLeod
Leaves litter the path home, lingering silhouettes
some colored imprints of decaying veins and skin
pounded by rain and sun into one with the ground
up companions remain on trees yet to be stripped
by a breeze and time will take them eventually as
days of growing are gone and the moment to fall
arrives as gnarled knuckles of brown and yellow
blow among ruddy roots liberated to pile together
soon all the branches bare themselves to heaven
for the waiting after the green, the gold, the red
comes dead of winter when sap is still and deep
hidden until the season arrives to leave again.
Evolve, the earths recycle.