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Poetics Presents

Mark D. Kishbaugh

Mark D. Kishbaugh is a Physician’s Assistant who currently lives in the mountains of Arizona. He has just recently begun pursuing his lifelong interest of writing. This piece was inspired by staring out of the medical school library window in Des Moines, Iowa when he was supposed to be studying pharmacology. Writers' Village members look forward to reading more of Mark’s work.

Dead Leaf Dance Some call them trash, litter, debris we think they are dead, but really they’re free All summer long, their work no small deed turning sunshine to sugar for the trees that they feed But the cold now approaches, soon the trees will all sleep their leaves being useless as they slumber so deep Yet the leaves see this differently, through eyes all their own their work now completed, they’re quite free to roam Cast off from the tethers with which they were bound they twirl and they tumble gently to the ground Now on breezes blowing, do they dance and they play they chase and they frolic with each other all day All dressed in fine colors, reds, yellows, and browns the wind sends them scurrying throughout the town Tirelessly cavorting in a quiet parking lot finally coming to rest in some serene spot As all things must end, both the good and the bad so it is with their freedom though we shouldn’t be sad When the saprophytes catch them and break them back down to the elements of the earth, I shan’t wear a frown You see, they’ll be back again in the spring they are just like us; their life cycle a ring A circle unbroken, as it will be until; Until all of God’s lessons and plans we fulfill Copyright © 2002 by Mark D. Kishbaugh