We are Leaves.
We are Trees.
We understand the Small Words
Between the Sentences of Things.
Leaves are Alive in their Demise.
Laughing at Eternity and it’s Approaching Fingers.
We all go There.
Some with Less Color.
Others with Loud Voices.
I talk to you about Escape
And you tell me your Dreams are too Comfortable.
I point out the Holes in the Fence
But you refuse to Bend and Fold
if only to crawl Hands & Knees
into the Arms of Beauty
I have Wasted Only a Day
In the Kingdom of Flowers
in the Dignity and Dying Embers of Fall.
these Colors I take Home
and serve New Gravy
on Old Casseroles
to the Guest …
… who Comes and Goes with the Wind.