Illustration by Sussi Louise Smith.

Stones and leaves

Stones and leaves 
once told me this would 
be an old road too, 

that the present would cement 
in some embrace, an echo 
unheard in open space. 

They’re nothing now,
the wet leaves underfoot, 
trapped between stone, 

but I picture them as they were: 
falling from the faerie’s Ash 
with ribbons in its branches – 

caught in the wind and 
away from home, in a world 
they can never have. 

I’m falling like the leaves, 
before they touch stone, 
falling in the space between, 

suspended in the air 
and yet – this stone too 
will be my old and new.