Autumn Leaf

Autumn Leaf
by Prasanta Verma

Leaf beautifully curling upward
Cupping droplets on its skin

I take my finger, wipe the drop.
Leave a skirmish behind

The red autumn leaf, a heart
Turned toward heaven

Singing in its death—I wonder,
Leaf, how many songs have you sung?

*

I wrap myself in a coat of leaves
Stand under a sheltering tree

Sing with the wind
Go to the one who sings over me

Cup my hands, raise them—empty
Here they are, here I am

Am I to be like that last leaf,
Stuck on the tree, alone?

And I am answered,
You are connected to the vine

Water spills over my hands,
Overflows, slips through my fingers.

Prasanta Verma is a freelance writer, poet, and artist. Prasanta was born under an Asian sun, raised in the Appalachian foothills in the southern U.S., and now lives in the Midwest. She has been published in Relief Journal, Barren Magazine, Exhale Journal, Silver Birch Press, (in)courage, and Tweetspeak Poetry.