The Last Leaves

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The leaves have held on tighter and longer this year. Even some maples are still dressed. Perhaps the high amount of rain we’ve had has helped the  trees hold onto their leaves longer.  Moss Brookis overflowing now and the vernal pools are filled with water.  Mushrooms multiply on fallen oak logs, while kale and chard still stand in the garden.

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Two young rabbits continue to hop around the garden to find food and I worry about what they’ll do for food soon. Their fur has turned darker brown. The rabbits seem to enjoy the last weeds of this autumn more than my gifts of carrots and chard, no matter that they are fresh and organic. I wonder if cottontails can feel more life force in food that hasn’t been picked yet.

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Gathering Supper

 

For tonight Russian kale

picked at dusk 

sprinkled with pine needles

A little miso and wine

spill into the roasted squash

a little tipsy      all of us 

Outdoors next to the stream

shiitake filled oak logs pop 

like firecrackers now until frost

From the forest

to the skillet a sizzle of 

shiitake, butter, and garlic

Life dances from seed and spore

from fallen trees at forest edge

onto our table tonight

 

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About elainereardon

Poet, writer, gardener, herbalist, pottery, painting—bumping into magic, peeking around new corners.
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1 Response to The Last Leaves

  1. Margie says:

    Love the poem!!
    ________________________________

    Liked by 1 person

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