I heard a leaf

I heard a leaf faintly land,

touching down on the forest floor,

the white oak

holding it cleanly

above the quarter-moon scars

of its crosscut planes.

In the room

where I sleep and love

and sometimes read,

this is all I heard.

Roger Camp lives in Seal Beach, CA where he gardens, walks the pier, travels the Old World, plays blues piano and spends afternoons with his pal, Harry, over drinks at Nick’s on 2nd. His work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, North American Review, Pank and is forthcoming in the Gargoyle Magazine and Hopkins Review.