Poetry Friday - Final Words from a Leaf

            Poetry Friday is with Jan Godown Annino HERE at her website, Bookseed Studio.  In this wintry January, at least here in Denver, Jan brings garden delights in the name of Sharon Lovejoy. Don't miss her loving post! Thanks, Jan!

       Tanita Davis, who has a new book out, BTW, wrote this for her #PoetryPals as our prompt for this final Friday of January: Here’s the scoop for January: This month, we’re writing a CASCADE poem. The Cascade form takes every line from the first stanza of your poem and TRANSFORMS those lines into the final lines of each stanza thereafter. (The link helpfully creates a little form that shows you how easy this might be.) Beyond that, there are no additional rules. Long or short, free verse, sonnet, or sestina, find a way in which you can incorporate some inkling of the idea (or word) transformation as you write. You have a month to craft your creation and box it up on January 27th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals.

        Tanita's new book is titled Figure It Out, Henri Weldon.

        Another #PoetryPal, Laura Purdie Salas, has three books coming out this spring. You can find out about them here! And if you look further on her blog, you will see her review of Tanita's book! 

        One more #PoetryPal also has a new book out, Lola's Light, by Liz Garton Scanlan. If I've missed any of you, let me know! 

                              Congratulations to all!

     I haven't written for the prompts from #PoetryPals for a while and this one intrigued me. But, as I imagine many of you experience, I splashed around for a topic, and searched old poems that I thought might spark a theme, but didn't find one. Then, as our weather has been consistently giving us snow, I found inspiration. Here's the photo from outside on my patio and the poem. I didn't exactly follow the exact words for the "last line" expectation but considered it's the thought that counted, right? 

                       A Leaf’s Goodbye

 

I flew here from a maple tree, up there on the hill.

A woman took a pic of me, she saw me in the snow.

She wanted to remember me, a flourishing that didn’t last.

I’m glad to be a memory, like others in her past.

 

Photos give a taste of days that happened years ago.

The older ones are grainy, the new ones clear and bright.

No matter which, a life’s been lived, photos echo well.

Just like the maple tree I left, up there on the hill.

 

As I recall, the first of life for me was palest green.

Humans called me “budding”, a joyous circumstance.

I managed then, as days ticked by, to advertise a spring.

Another pic was taken, no snow on anything.

 

When humans grow, you need to know that they’re not like us buds.

They’re really slow, yet attention’s paid, and changes do occur.

From babyhood to young adults, parents revel every day,

Keeping their cache of memories, ‘cause budding does not stay.

 

A year has passed, the last I knew, found lying in the snow;

sun and shadow form a place, with nowhere else to fly.

Some years pass by, lives meander on, but to a leaf like me

Memory comes from spring to fall, on my dear old maple tree.

 

Linda Baie ©