Brazen Leaves

O, brazen leaves, boldly rustling in the north breeze.

Will not quite give it up! So few remain.
Life ebbing; dry, wrinkled, lifeless looking.
Yet the will to be remains.

O, brazen leaves, resisting the autumnal prerogative.

Hanging on! Shamelessly resisting the forces of time,
Somehow hoping time will stop; a moment frozen
to keep forever, like summer in the Arctic climes.

O, brazen leaves, dried and brown.

Knowing deep down that as the other leaves have died
and fallen to the ground, so will they that still hang on.
Despite the knowing, wishing to wake to the next dawn.

O, brazen leaves, that know not time nor temerity.

Heavenly hope having high expectations; half-dead,
yet noisy, cajoling, like a group of good friends.
Pushing one to ponder proof of  life's barefaced brazenness.

O, brazen leaves, boldly rustling.