Leonard Cohen fell

An unfurled bejeweled leaf

Dying in his sleep


Crumbled powdered milk

That fed sleeping baby’s breath

Until it soughed sweet


Birds on winter’s wire

Heard the song, transposed it to

Rime and snow’s desire


Melted down in March

Splitting fecund soil’s soft skin

Waking bud children


Rose up summer songs

The summer choirs lit in lace

And emerald hues


Til days grew drowsy

Songs whirred from insects’ dry wings

Petals’ flung rings and


Leonard Cohen fell

An unfurled bejeweled leaf

Dying in his sleep

About Eugene Jones Baldwin

I am a writer: non-fiction, fiction, journalism (Alton Telegraph), essays (The Genehouse Chronicles) and have a website: eugenebaldwin.com. I've published a couple dozen short stories and had eleven plays produced. Current projects: "Brother of the Stones" (available on Kindle), a book of short stories; "The Faithful Husband of the Rain, short stories"; "A Black Soldier's Letters Home, WWII,;" "There is No Color in Justice," a commentary on racism; "Ratkillers," a new play. I am an avocational archaeologist and I take parts of my collection of several thousand Indian artifacts (personal finds) to schools, nature centers, libraries etc. and talk about the 20,000 year history of The First people in Illinois. (See link to website) I'm also a playwright (eleven plays produced), musician, historian (authority on the Underground Railroad in Illinois, the Tuskegee Airmen) and teacher.
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