Thursday, January 26, 2023

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 ©



  1. The voice here, Linda! I love this voice and perspective. "budding does not stay..."

  2. Your leaf is quite endearing, Linda. Love that you wrote this from its point of view. Enjoyed the nostalgic tone of the poem. :). ~ Jama

  3. I love this cascade poem, Linda! The rhyme pattern is interesting, and the subject moves from leaf to human so splendidly! Kudos to you! And thanks... (I didn't post today, too busy with family, for which I am lucky, so no regrets.)

  4. This is so lovely and nostalgic, and I liked how you used a variation of your lines instead of an exact copy. This poem sings.

  5. So sweet! I'm in love with this maple leaf of yours!

  6. Your poem brought tears to my eyes, Linda. I could feel your heart in every word. Yes, there are a lot of wonderful new books coming our way! I've pre-ordered two of Laura's books and read and loved Lolo's Light. thanks for the reminder to order Tanita's book.

  7. It's stunning how you saw, snapped took this spare leaf & looked into people's hearts & lives, deeply, Linda.
    And appreciations for sharing these new book titles from wonderful #PoetryFriday poets & authors. I want to check them out.
    [Smiles to you for the sweet mention of Bookseedstudio]

  8. I love the story of that leaf in the snow.

  9. Truly lovely, such a sensitive voice this dear leaf has, I'd like to befriend it… And your pic does too! Moving transformation from beginning to end, almost like the humans, as in your line, "They’re really slow, yet attention’s paid, and changes do occur." Thanks Linda!

  10. The voice of this humble leaf...but also wise and observant. Your return to the theme of each line if not the exact wording is a form unto itself, Linda!

  11. Oh, my goodness...the wistfulness of this mask poem is masterful. Linda, this is beautiful. You entered the life cycle of this little leaf and gave it to us as a gift. Thank you.
    And, thank you for the new book news. It's REALLY NICE to see it all in one place. I'm throwing confetti! Wooot!

  12. I love that you chose to tell this from the POV of the leaf! Great job!

  13. This is so wistful and yet so grounded. Lovely!

  14. Oh Linda, I'm such a fan of mask poems! Love this line: "...they’re not like us buds/They’re really slow..."

  15. I love the turn in the fourth stanza, turning from leaves to humans. Interesting form! And well done on the rhyme.

  16. I love the progression from the leaf's flight, to photos, to humans' slow budding. Beautiful, Linda!

  17. Budding does not stay. So true. I love the point of view here, and the reminder of the brevity of all the different moments of life. Your last stanza especially connected for me!

  18. PS, I forgot to say thanks for the shout out!

  19. This is such a beautiful, rich poem, Linda. I'm hungry for spring, so these lines caught me: "the first of life for me was palest green. /Humans called me “budding”, a joyous circumstance."

  20. Linda, this is my first chance at connecting and when I read your lovely poem, I sighed and felt grounded in memories. Back on my connecting flight right now.


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