leaves

her mind has taken the place of leaves

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her mind has taken the place of leaves

each spring as the sun melts the remnants of winter’s last storm

a budding thought trickles in

sprouting greener than any other

in the summer that thought flourishes

soaking up the sun

and providing a cool place

for others to lay

but as the heat grows

those leaves dry and become brittle

she doesn’t mind

because she loves the reds, oranges, and yellows

in fact

she can’t think of anything she loves mind

when finally short days are followed by cool nights

and the wind knocks loose the leaves

her mind rests peacefully

knowing this is the process she must endure

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her mind has become a leaf

Posted on

her mind has become a leaf

each spring
as the sun melts the remnants
of winter’s last storm
a budding though trickles in
sprouting greener than any other

in the summer
that thought flourishes
soaking up the sun and
provides a cool place
for others to lay

but as the heat strengthens
those leaves dry and become brittle
but she doesn’t mind
because she loves the reds and oranges
that surround her

in fact

she can’t think of anything she loves more

when finally
short days are followed by cool nights
and the wind knocks loose the leaves
her mind rests peacefully
knowing this cycle is vital to her survival

Summer is Coming – Haiku

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Green grass is afoot

Squishing beneath my bare feet

Springing me forward

 

Atop the tall tree

Young leaves rustle in the breeze

Rays of light shine through

 

Bright tulips grow tall

Standing out against dull life

Summer is coming

a tree blows over in the wind

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a tree blows over in the wind

moist dirt flies up

landing amongst the tangle of white

that had just seconds before acted as an anchor

darkening the grass that was once green

 

the tree had told stories

for it had been there for years

nurturing those that came to it

who sat

protected by it’s outreached arms

and full branches

from immense heat

 

the tree had witnessed a war

had seen the struggle of innocents

as they were oppressed

gunned down

the tree wept with its leaves

each one individually drifting through the stagnant air

but with each year the tree had grown stronger

not allowing the pain to tear it down

 

but the wind had been ferocious

a force unlike any other

the wind didn’t like what the tree stood for

strength

protection

love

the forces built of around the tree

nature acting against one of its own

and with a mighty gust

the tree became the oppressed

 

 

the leaves have disappeared

Posted on Updated on

the leaves have disappeared

from the trees

 

a few remain

s     a     e     ed

.  c     tt     r

amongst the grass

losing its form

brown seeping through the green

squishing under my every step

 

I have now reached the sidewalk

whose color mimics that of the sky above

a lone red leaf lays flat

stuck to the grisly gray surface

creating a stark distinction between fall and winter

 

I hesitate

not wanting to step on it

not wanting to embrace the turning of the season

holding strong to the colors of fall

that are slowly escaping

and bringing about them change

hidden somewhere behind the gray of the sky

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hidden somewhere behind the gray of the sky

is the sun

it’s golden hue no longer emitted

a dreary bleakness replaces it

 

most trees have lost their leaves

and with no sun to strike the yellows and reds of those that are left

their beauty may seem to have disappeared

overtaken by a thin layer of gray

reminiscent of the sun

 

the clouds continue to darken

shifting slightly closer with each second

 

but does this truly make nature any less beautiful?

 

the sky

with no sun to capture all the attention

seems endless

beauty lingers in the darkening shades of the leaves

and the layers of darkening clouds

are a mass of colors not seen every day

the day is peaceful

less hectic

there is a wooden bench

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there is a wooden bench

the wood is worn, near splintering

and the once walnut finish has faded to gray

 

the sun

which is surrounded by clouds

but not blocked

casts a soft warmth on the bench

inviting me over

 

I sit

looking up at the beautiful maple standing behind the bench

its leave have begun to change

only a handful of green is noticeable amongst the reds and yellows

 

it is not until this moment

that I notice the many leaf less trees that surround me

they are bare

lonely

they lack the warmth of the maple

 

a quick gust swirls past

there is a ruckus in the branches above me

crisp leaves rattle together

one

lone red leaf

t

.   w

.  i

.    r

. l

s

(in the still air)

(cascading towards)

me

seconds pass by

until it takes its last twirl

and lands next to me on the bench

its vibrant red color

standing out against the gray of the bench

signaling what is to come