amongst the leaves
with each passing day your approach is ever clearer,
as the day's light grows shorter and the chill in the breeze hardens.
looking out of the window spurs a chill to my soul,
all clear-- all there-- all unknown.
I wish I had the time to sit,
and think amongst the leaves.
I do, but I don't make it,
instead I pack my bag and carry on.
some view them as trash, to be raked and bagged,
but I rather like the hustling song of former symbols of life,
caught up in a lively jig with the unseen.
I too long to dance the way the multi-colored carbon angels do,
light and wistful; carefree and with a smile; content.
where they will land, where they will go, where they will perish,
no one knows-- except for me.
I chase them all with arms extended and eyes closed,
but I dare not capture them-- like butterflies, they deserve freedom.
I enjoy their beauty and what I can learn from them,
how to dance; how to fly; how to be.
there is much to be learned from books,