The Way of the Wind

(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