Mille feuilles

Photo©Deborah Tilley


River cleans the banks

of fallen boughs cast adrift

where red leaf barques sail.


Each gentle gust

tugs the leaves that fall,

a golden shower,

not rain,

too bright and light,

spinning earthwards

and lying in drifts,

for feet to scatter

with laughter.


Rustle beneath my feet,

crisp leaves,

falling like ticker tape,

mille-feuille and pie crust sweet,

waiting for the wind

and the party’s end.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

2 thoughts on “Mille feuilles”

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