Leaf Death

by Sean Ulman
97 words



As aspen leaf butter-based spades fluttered to his feet the welder understood that each leaf was touching-down its only time. He believed the leaves still breathed as they lay on the ground, fragrant pre-parchment, supple, smooth. The wind gusted. Besieged by the beauty of so many leaves lives ending, he focused on one leaf. As it shuttled toward him his hand involuntarily shot out. But thinking it best to not interrupt its journey, he returned his hand to his pocket. No event in his life matched the magnitude of each leaf’s life ending, and he knew it.




Sean Ulman received his Master's degree in fiction from the Stonecoast MFA program through the University of Southern Maine. He has two poems forthcoming in the inaugural issue of the Main Street Journal at the University of Delaware. He is working on his third novel.