Branches, scattered Leaves, clinging Against the dull heavens ~~~ Roasted with red spice.
Terra-cotta fall. Soft and somber, Muted Until the crunch. Moving slower Drifting hand in hand No where to go, Or to be. Past turning around. Stirring my imagination, Caught, Tangled in a stare. For a split second, The reflection is clean. Can’t erase the beauty I’ve just seen.
~~~You can find me playing in the leaves~~~
Trees Blow at me. I can’t stop them, Or make them, I see them. Shaking fingers Luring me in...
A swollen old tree, Blue and Smokey. Where a knot, extended Splits into the ground. A Home, a muse. Beauty not built, But shaped by opportunity. It holds a place Living a lifetime Right off the wayside. Do you notice, Or would it pass you by?
A funny little dance As I watch by chance Bouncing and flirting To down right deserting Spastically Slapping And taking their bows Staring out my back windows. Between each slat The branches do play The leaves maroon and cold The sun kissed tint of red, bold.
Revolving, echoing The beauty sustained, In lifetimes lived. Housed in this small Vessel from the earth. Cradled, since forever. No worries or discomfort. Raw edges Basking in the ground Waiting it’s turn To be seen. Plucked from its burrow, Fully exposed, Bringing life, Once again, To what’s already dead.