Leaves

Leaves unfurling like a thousand green spinnakers

Catching the wind

Each leaf its own tale

I read these trees

Through fresh green pages

Like reading the whispers of others

In this consequence of narrative

Where each tale is separate but connected

Like each green flag is anchored on branches

I hear each murmur that comes my way

Each note and comment adds to the story

That I piece together organically

So that even as I revel in today’s fresh green garments

I read foreshadowings of rusty autumn in the wind

When these solitary voices will be stripped away

And nobody will remember spring’s tale

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013