Falling Branches.


A branch fell down today, carried off by

the wind?

Or was it the weight of life

bearing downwards a moment too long,

breaking its ability to hold on?

It fell slowly but loudly whispered,

demanding my attention, and so I paid.

The leaves fluttered, excited

to meet the ground.

The grass! Their unknown, distant cousins embraced

some of them, yet some of them

were still born aloft by the natural way of

the branches.

They had to wait their turn.  Warmth found them all

as the sun shadowed them with light;

they wait until night to begin life anew.

The thoughts of the natural world are –

or aren’t they?

Perhaps I’ve been staring outside for too long.


Mourning Dew.

The sun rose at six today,

sparkling dewdrops rest.

The wind knows not what to say,

to crystal tears on grassy crest.


The drops grew slow below the sky,

aether joining solid earth.

The blades of grass with eyes did cry,

giving the soul a knowing berth.


With bended back, the blade bows low,

green grass with moisture in its face.

Howling wind of heart’s sorrow

does the silent grief replace.