April 26th, 2023
For the leaves still fell that dayCoating the ground a brilliant harvest hueBut those there to witness, had all gone away.No one to watch as the hollow trees swayThe grass covered in undisturbed dewFor the leaves still fell that dayCars left unstarted, keys left on the dashboard trayHouses formerly well protected, with doors left askewThose who had made home here, had all gone away.Without proper harvest, fields overgrow with hayBuildings now connected by plant-based sinewFor the leaves still fell that dayStructures left to crumble, their weakness on full displayYet formations of plants would emerge, brand newBut those that once stood so proudly, had all gone awayTruth be told, leaves don’t care what people have to sayThriving in defiance of the absence of youAnd those who would once witness, had long since been awayFor the leaves still fell that day.
— © 2023 by Andrew Wiegman
Andrew is a freshman on the Marinette campus and a member of the Northern Lights and Driftwood editorial staff. This poem was selected for inclusion in the 2023 Northern Lights Literary & Arts Journal by the staff in a blind-submission process. Andrew is physically incapable of complimenting themselves and is a certified “Silly Fella,” whatever that means.
Join us on May 4th at 6:00 p.m. to celebrate the launch of the new 2023 Northern Lights and be among the first to grab a print copy! Click here for more info on our launch party.