On raking autumn leaves
Each leaf a life, accidental
and fallen. Damp-collecting,
for composting or burning.
Recalling summer skies; brushstrokes
for laid-back lovers – grass in their hair,
green against blue, waving gently
from sap-filled willow wands: a kiss –
her moment in time; another life
accidental, and rising now.
I was raking leaves off the lawn this morning and suddenly felt like writing again. It’s been a tough couple of months, but a rest and break over Christmas is now in sight.
In the summer, I sometimes like to lie under the trees and look at the sky through the leaves.
Posted on dVerse.