Jesse Doiron
November 8, 2026
Wednesday is my day for leaves,
the weather willing for the work.
I like to watch them waltz before
the rake and twirl into their piles.
They make me smile when I
have nothing more than frown
to weigh me down – inside.
The leaves and I are light upon
our feet, and tines mark time,
while all around the trees
we dance and prance along,
entranced by some odd, half-
remembered song from long
ago, hummed under breath
to some old god of yore,
linguistically forgot,
though hanging still from bough
above – an afterthought.
Then, when all is done that day,
the music and the dance,
the rake and work and psalm,
the piles and piles and piles,
great He, of leaves and trees,
smiles down on me as if to say:
“Come next Woden’s Day,
and I will let you waltz again
the leaves away as I
undress my trees and watch
you sing and dance and pray
with them, half-naked in the fall.”
Jesse Doiron has worked in Europe, the Middle East, and Asia as an educator and consultant. His teaching experience ranges from English for international business at the UC – Berkeley Extension in San Francisco to creative writing at the Mark Stiles Maximum Security Prison for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.
