A Single Leaf

That tree must have a thousand branches. They reach to the sky in surrender to winter. On one of those branches a single leaf remains. Though brown and frayed, it refuses to fall.
That is why I smile.


From that leaf that I wrote about, a marvelous richness unfolded. I can't tell the turmoil it brought me, that leaf on my floor. Not a bad turmoil, mind you. Still a shaking, an overturning and a new emptiness to fill. (One must make room for the new, my darlings). So I will be writing short prose pieces, suitable for a table near you. They will be called Single Leaves. I take the title from the Proety piece that first appeared. I hope to be the first to coin Proety as a illegitimate form prose/poetry writing. No point in being famous if you can be infamous, no? Ta ta, my precious ones.