Falling leaves

Seasons, senses & self: Day 25

Trees and shrubs, green all summer
now burst into flamboyant colour,
a pallet of yellows, oranges, red.

When days were brighter and longer,
a powerful pigment, green,
intercepted bright power to manufacture
sugars from water and air, which run
in the sap through the veins, into the phloem
under the bark. Trees grow.

Days shorten; sun weakens. Photosynthesis
tails off and shuts down. Chlorophyll
molecules split apart for recycling;
its dominant green fades away.
Long hidden colours emerge:
yellow flavonols, orange carotenoids, anthocyanins
purple or red. Abscisic acid triggers
a seal at the base of each leaf

and it falls.

Autumn leaves on the ground, gold and brown and green - oval pointed serrated leaves.
Image: Masaki Ikeda

Seasons, Senses & Self: a daily series

I used some long sciencey words from this Kew Gardens web page to write this piece. I would call it verse rather than poetry – I pared away words to give the sentences a concentrated flavour, and tried to bring out the word-music of each line, but it has no poetic soul (for want of a better phrase).

If you’d like something more poetic (and some rhyme), try the short piece below by Emily Brontë – or write one yourself?