A single, singular leaf
swirling against sunlight
into meditation beyond a blue day
brings her to an edge – forgotten
but not misplaced as she had thought,
straying on purpose while awake.
The trick, she knows, when awake
is to free-fall like an autumn leaf
without worry, without thought,
welcoming rain just as sunlight.
Hiding in the arbor is not forgotten
climbing, ignoring fresh bruises of this day.
Dreams of night melt into day
as early morning birds scream “awake!”
Terrors of past darkness are best forgotten
like the shedding a tired leaf.
Even as the moon craves sunlight,
she reaches for warm embrace of thought.
Do birds carry any thought
than stretching across the day,
drinking rain, singing praise, bowing to sunlight?
As on wings, her spirit becomes awake.
Does a bird ever long to dance with a leaf,
spinning until time is forgotten?
No child’s dream stays forgotten,
not the glorious, not the darkest thought.
She wishes she could place her hurt on a leaf
and let it wither to feed another day.
The strongest fears while awake
are lost in forest’s dappled sunlight.
She is a branch in sunlight
but with roots and stories forgotten,
nothing to haunt her while awake.
The freedom of such thought
brings yearning for a different day
like an unfurling of joy upon a leaf.
Time is aware of fading sunlight.
As the tree frees a leaf, sorrow is forgotten
and thought becomes hope within a green day.
The Word Rummager 