Leaves: The Original Inspiration for Sequins

 

Leaves: The Original Inspiration for Sequins (17^th November 25)

As I stand at the window, I watch the leaves.

Some sway gently, some sparkle in the light.

They shimmer — almost iridescent —

like a party dress from memory,

a cascade of sequins, fish scales,

glinting with movement and mystery.

I’m a true magpie, drawn to anything

that reflects or dances in the sun.

My gaze locks, soldier-still,

on the branches swaying,

on the golden, yellow, green parade.

Below, the grass glows orange —

a carpet of fire, a festival of fall.

I can’t look away.

It’s like fireworks, sparklers,

twinkling Christmas lights.

The mighty oak calls to me,

a treasure chest of light and motion.

I collect it in memory,

each glint a keepsake.

Every day it changes.

This is my tree.

In autumn, I don’t just glance —

I stare, enchanted, thrilled,

encapsulated by its beauty,

by its sequin leaves,

by its sway.

What will it inspire today?

What did it inspire yesterday?

This tree, this mighty oak,

provokes my thoughts,

a beast of grace and grandeur.

How can something so vast

be so kind, so beautiful,

so ever-changing?

As the leaves splinter and fall,

I see every hue of autumn.

And I know why I love you.