MARIE AMONG THE LEAVES

 

MARIE AMONG THE LEAVES

 

How her strut becomes her, a wee lass on the hill.

Hands in little pockets like grandfathers walk,
she must get to the other side where there’s a wall
she needs to climb over only because it is there.

Toddling among the leaves, she lets out a shriek

like diving seagulls make, taunting the raucous
fishermen to let some catch off their bursting nets,
sharing the joie d’vivre only drunken sailors home
from the seas are full of.  Aiieee… Aieeeeeeeekkkk!

The darkening sky lets out a funnel of fall wind,

roils the crackling leaves blanketing the hillock.
She stumbles on a heap, swims through the mound
of sienna and fallen foliage, but her coy laughter
makes him tremble now, her pensive grandpere:

“Mon dieu, let her laugh, let the pall of transience

pass, that she may be defiant with full laughter
through all the autumns of her life. O, lift her up
whence she falls, cradle her caressingly. Forever.”

---Albert B. Casuga

10-14-13  Mississauga