Leaves in the Wind...
This morning I felt like the wind.
Reveling in making the dry leaves swirl and heave in my wake.
Luxuriating in watching them dance before and after me, a splendid display of death in warm earthy tones.
Why don't dead leaves smell bad?
Where do they all disappear to, carried away by winter and spring?
Why do some roll up and fall strait to the ground, as if scared to be plucked from their roost, and others flatten out in the ecstasy of freedom to catch the wind and fly?
Reveling in making the dry leaves swirl and heave in my wake.
Luxuriating in watching them dance before and after me, a splendid display of death in warm earthy tones.
Why don't dead leaves smell bad?
Where do they all disappear to, carried away by winter and spring?
Why do some roll up and fall strait to the ground, as if scared to be plucked from their roost, and others flatten out in the ecstasy of freedom to catch the wind and fly?