A Delicate Breeze

May 24, 2011

A delicate breeze rustles the leaves
on the old tree in the back yard
as they dangle from their branches.
They wave mockingly to the blades of grass below,
equally as green as they,
but perceived as somehow inferior.

A delicate breeze rustles the leaves,
and they dance freely,
confident they would never be let go.
They bathe in the sun of morning,
assuming the warmth would last the entire day,
paying no mind to the weed sprouts on the ground
that for weeks have been suffocated by the shade.

A delicate breeze rustles the leaves,
cooler, wilder,
sweeping with a certain edge through the previously temperate air.
The leaves pay no mind,
gently bobbing and swaying,
uninterested and unfazed.

A healthy breeze rustles the leaves.
They are napping, bored and veiled by entitlement.
They cling to their branches for a moment,
wondering why the great tree shows no sign of sparing them,
confused as to why they are being let go.
But the tree is ambivalent,
concerned not with the leaves.
There are hundreds of other leaves to look after,
and millions more on millions of other trees.

A delicate breeze rustles the leaves,
and it lifts them briefly from their heaps.
Temporarily airborne once again,
they look down at the grass,
although the two have since become more friendly.
Most of the day, the leaves stare up at their branches,
sad and nostalgic, frustrated and helpless.
Paralyzed, they watch the branches dance in the breeze.
They watch buds sprout, and they watch new leaves unfold.
They watch those leaves dance on their old branches.
They watch; worrying, remembering, aching.

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One Response to “A Delicate Breeze”

  1. Excellent post thanks for sharing. I enjoy reading and also writing poetry myself. Feel free to check it out. You have a great layout here!

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