When Leaves Don’t Fall

When leaves don’t fall
often they are red
like beacons
and they swing
to shine their light
upon their siblings
trampled in the mud.

Leaves that don’t fall
cling like squirrels
to the branch
and prick their tips
like brittle ears
and try to sing
when winds arise

or footfall sounds.
These leaves defy finality,
like squirrels they
conceal something
green, deep inside,
to soothe the sting
of bitter winter

or the human brutes
who bang and bruise
their tree for fruit
or thoughtless sport.
Erect they cling
like squirrels, often red,
and sing

their promises of spring
to those who fell
below the branch
where sap
still runs to the deep core
of leaves that never fall
but grieve their siblings.