Glorious Springtime Leaves

Once they make their minds up,
the leaves on the trees in the forest grow
at lightning speed in springtime.
Sometimes it takes them a while to get started,
but that’s true for all of us,
as we ready for new growth in our lives.
And for all of us,
including the leaves waving to us from high above,
adolescence is an awkward time–
some say, an in-between time,
when we can’t quite decide
whether to be a caterpillar or butterfly.
Each leaf a magical photosynthetic factory,
giving so much unselfishly to something higher;
something more deeply rooted,
something touching the sky, and yes
something that goes beyond itself
to create a forested world,
sheltering even those without leaves.
So, I too, like many poets before me,
pay tribute to the leaves,
towering above us, but always there
grasping sun drops,
and forever waving hello.

Click here to hear Don read this poem.

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About Don Iannone

Don Iannone is a poet, writer, teacher and photographer who lives in the Greater Cleveland area. He has worked in the economic development field for over 35 years. Don is the author of three poetry books and five photography books. He is working on a short book of photographs and poems about human trafficking. This work was exhibited at six venues in Ohio. Don holds an M.A. degree in Art and Consciousness Studies from the University of Philosophical Research in Los Angeles, where he teaches writing. His educational background also includes studies in Anthropology, Photography, Organizational Behavior, and Economic Development. Donโ€™s website: http://www.donaldiannone.com Wisdom Work Press: https://wisdomworkpress.wordpress.com

11 thoughts on “Glorious Springtime Leaves

  1. Hi Don. There’s an appealing trait to your reading that I won’t specifically mention because I don’t want to make you self-conscious, but I will say I enjoyed this. ๐Ÿ™‚ Nicely done.

  2. Thanks so much Dan, Aurora, Paul, Andrew, Floots, and Nasra for your kind comments. They are much appreciated by me.

    Voice is very powerful. I believe the beauty of poetry unfolds when it is verbalized. A poem’s resonance becomes known only when given voice.

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