One leaf left on a branch and not a sound of sadness or despair. One leaf left on a branch and no unhappiness. One leaf left all by itself in the air and it does not speak of loneliness or death. One leaf and it spends itself in swaying mildly in the breeze.
David Ignatow (2011). “Against the Evidence: Selected Poems, 1934–1994”, p.124, Wesleyan University Press
