The autumn leaves are making a movie
They are all stars in the golden light
I catch the maple matinee through the screen of my skylight

Some leaves are razzle dazzle dancers
Some nod in agreement with the fickle wind
Some flap wildly like buffoons
Testing the strength of their weakening petioles
Some buzz with nervous excitement
Some wave gracefully like a royal
But still say “Take me, choose me”

I observe the cast of players out on a limb
Which will find release before the end of the act?
Which stem will unhinge in a sudden gust?
There is no reprise, no curtain call in this drama
Only certain
Downward
Drift

Barbara Ann Branca is a performance poet and singer whose work appears in dozens of anthologies. She has read from her chapbook, FLASH FLOOD, on NPR and at venues throughout New York City and Long Island where she is known to shake her gourd rattle and break out in song.