I rustled in slow circles this afternoon looking for just the right leaf. The huge curling litter of our Chinese magnolia is a marker of December for me. The leaves fall like yellow sails in November and then they dry, curl and blow in the wind. There was the year my father was visiting and in his failing eyesight he told me our newspapers had littered the field. Another year while stacking the wood kiln, my two helper friends took a break to gather armfuls of leaves. Their enjoyment of the amassed sculptural abundance drew me out of my funk of doubt.
Leaves beginning to rustle now
in the dark tree of the self.
–Charles Wright, from “Cicada,” in Chickamauga (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1995)
One reply on “#2 decembrance 2020”
I love the big leathery leaves that fall from the magnolia tree. They persist all winter, changing colors and texture.