It rained overnight. The wind howled and the trees bent to its unrelenting will. The casualties were strewn on the driveway this morning. An Autumnal aftermath. Leaves of many colours littered the ground. I gathered a few of them up, took them inside and photographed them. Then I wrote... L E A F It clung tenaciously To its sturdy host Eventually the wind Separated them And the leaf Cast adrift Began its inevitable descent Flittering Fluttering Falling To earth Like a feather, tumbling On the pathway It landed Face up Autumn shades exposed Brilliant at the end Intense hues of magenta, indigo and russet red Among the verdant green remnants A leaf Beauty defying death

I recently visited a school as part of a Meet The Author Day and was talking to groups of young writers about the work surrounding my latest book, ‘Searching For Hen’s Teeth- Poetry From The Search Zone.’ The usual questions arose during the day: Where do you get your ideas? What inspired you to write poetry? Do you have a favourite poem? Do you prefer rhyming verse or free verse? How long have you been writing poetry? How did you get your poetry book published? How long does it take to write a book? All these questions are valid. All of them quite normal. But one Grade 6 boy’s question set me to thinking more deeply about my response. He raised his hand and asked, ‘Do you like sport?  I have been asked this question before. In fact. It has been raised with me on numerous occasions and it is always posed by boys. I suspect that in the minds of many boys, poetry and sports are viewed as mutually exclusive pursuits. Poetry is seemingly passive and sport,  an active pursuit prefe...