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
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Beautiful x
Thank you Katie.
Reblogged this on Writing Red Baron and commented:
I really liked this piece. Probably because I’m reading Whitman, but it reminded me of “Leaves of Grass”.
Thank you so much for the kind words and for the reblog!