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more poems by Randy Guess...



When Leaves Fall

Why don't leaves fall on edge?
Someone asked.
Oh, but they do, sometimes,
Slide between blades of grass
To do a tenuous balancing act

And are we not all
As tenuous as brittle leaves
Or blades of grass,
Or a grubworm poised under a walking man's shoe
Unheeding the downstroke that spells its doom

And we, forewarned
But never well armed,
Plod steadily
Into
Dust


Randy Guess

©1997





[How Could I Ask For More?]

[When Leaves Fall]   

[About The Poet]    [Short-Timer]

[A Sweeter Dragon Flame]     [The Devil and the Fourth of July]

[Wrestling Hemingway]     [Wiggleworm]

[A Silent Paean]    [Rainbow Color Reality]

[Hear The Mountains Calling]

[Fair and Moldy Muse]     [Ode to a Scottish Lass]

[A Matter of Time]    [Understanding Anne Sexton]

[In Praise of Earth and Sky and Sea]


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