A Dead Leaf in a Snowstorm

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I am on my couch, looking out my window. The snow comes down, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, like the sky and ground tumbling together in white sheets. Just outside the window stands a mammoth, gray, gnarled oak that wraps the smaller trees in its limbs. One dead leaf clings to a small branch.

The leaf is a corpse, withered and brown, like crumpled cigar skin. It flutters in the bluster and breeze, the storm trying to rip it apart.

It’s going to fall. It has to fall. It must be replaced by the new leaves waiting for their turn.

But it holds on. And it has not fallen.

It’s going to fall.

But not today.

 

Hey, do you like my writing? Why don’t you check out one of my novels? There’s the historical fantasy The Watchmage of Old New York. Originally published by Jukepop Serials, it continues to rack up great reviews and awards, including a 4/5 star critique from Writer’s Digest! There’s also my debut novel, a grimdark fantasy called Song of Simon, from Caliburn Press, which has also received great reviews, such as The Review Board’s Certificate of Excellence. 

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