terça-feira, 15 de julho de 2025

Begging the wind

 fluttering down from the winter tree
the last to hang on through autumn
The dry wind sucked the juice
outta that stubborn petiole

The float down is a rosey existance
No envy for the camelia that stays glossy year round
or for the thick pine excessive upright prideful stature
No I was just an acer leaking gum like a beatle leaking oil

I am the crusty leaf oranged and pale in the wind
seconds from the green grass ground
twirling suddenly skyward wishing for more time
then an undercurrent catches and almost rips me

The wind turns to gale and sends me over the neighbors fence
disoriented crispy and praying for more wind

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