! ! ! The Dead Leaf
I saw it at first light,
suspended above the road -
brown and mottled
and slowly turning.
I fancied a puppeteer
with white gloved hand,
might be holding it
by an invisible thread.
Or perhaps a wily spider,
on the branch above,
was using it as bait.
I blew on it gently,
as if it were a candle
and it spun -
like a sugar plum fairy.
a careless car
will drive by later
and break the spell.
Alison Cassidy's Other Poems
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