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Poem: ‘Diptych: Abscission and Marcescence’

Science in meter and verse

Willow branches with fall foliage against a white background.

Willow branches with colorful leaves over white background in autumn season

Credit: Eugene Sergeev/Alamy Stock Photo

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Abscission

I liked reading that leaves don't fall in autumn;
they're pushed. It captures nature's cold practicality,
and the human tendency to fall
for appearances, illusions.

When light and warmth dwindle,
a layer of cells starts to spread where leaf stalk
meets twig, like cauterization.


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The death-pitted dormant tree looks ahead
without a flicker in its heartwood.

Marcescence

Everything is mostly gray,
sleeping or decayed.

A few brittle curls cling
to the willow's bones—dead
but life won't let go of them,
as though their shreds
still have something to give.

They seem both abandoned
and noble in their outstaying.

Edited by Dava Sobel

Nicola Healey lives in Buckinghamshire in England, and her poems have been published widely in U.K. journals, including The Poetry Review, Poetry Ireland Review, The London Magazine and Wild Court.

More by Nicola Healey
Scientific American Magazine Vol 327 Issue 4This article was published with the title “Diptych” in Scientific American Magazine Vol. 327 No. 4 (), p. 24
doi:10.1038/scientificamerican1022-24

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