the rain falls in

splashes and splatters

to tatters

of trees

and seas

of leaves

fallen in agos

long gone.


and every so often

the forming leaves

glimmering in afternoon dew

catch onto a few

at their tips

and hold on

for as long

as the song

of the birds

will go.

but once.

or twice.

there are one.

or two.

that brush

against the rush

of the fall.

and just stay.


© Hudson Biko

Photograph by Alessio Lin