Leaves Falling by David Ignatow
Leaves Falling
by David Ignatow
I wish I understood the beauty
in leaves falling. To whom
are we beautiful
as we go?
I lie in the field
still, absorbing the stars
and silently throwing off
their presence. Silently
I breathe and die
by turns.
He was ripe
and fell to the ground
from a bough
out where the wind
is free
of the branches
I think this piece starts off with one of the most gorgeous lines in literature “to whom are we beautiful as we go?”. We are breathing and we are dying, and part of the ripening and the falling, released in time.
