The coal-dust looked almost golden in the light of the grease-lamps.
Miners chipped and dug away at various floors throughout the depth of the dark giant well under the earth.
At the bottom of the well, near the centre of the earth, where the mine was at its hottest and darkest, some miners spotted a leaf floating towards them.
They all looked up, wanting to see
the sky and the tree.
- There was a poem posted on various Toronto subway cars, about a falling leaf and a sense of hope. I'd liked it tremendously, but couldn't remember the details nor, sadly, the poet's name. The above is an attempt to capture the feeling of that poem. Will update this post as soon as I can track down that poem's co-ordinates.
Update: The name of the original poem is Branch Line by Gary Michael Dault. Please look it up, it's a far better, simpler thought.
2 comments:
I found the original in the blog of another Torontian, but she says I hated the poem. I have given a piece of my mind. The poem I believe is:
a leaf fell onto the floor
of the subway car
all the passengers
looked up at
the metal grill
the ceiling
every one of them
expecting to see the sky
Is this it?
That's right, that's the one!Didn't occur to me to search the net for it!
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