(art by Jon White)
if you stand at the edge
of an autumn lake
you’ll witness leaves
spiraling slowly from the sky
they touch the surface
with a whisper
poised on the surface tension
adroit dancers who move
with a wisp of wind
they don’t proceed en masse
as one would expect:
back with a breeze,
forth with a puff,
pawns of a prevailing wind
instead, rather randomly
ten leaves advancing
while another stands still
three marching north
while four meander south
some tip with a gust
they start to sink
others move against the wind
as if pulled by strings
beneath the surface
I see the leaves,
and can’t help but wonder
about these friends of mine
crazy misfits, square pegs,
underemployed dreamers
yet keenly motivated
by forces unseen
I see them sometimes
when I slow down to watch
they seem to move
with the wind, to be sure
but without pattern
or predictability
it’s a mystery
Posted in: Jon White Art
Beautiful.
wowness … i love the way the image sort of centers you as you read the poem, keeping you seeing the image while the words change the meaning.