(There was a promise, and I'm still stupid busy, and it's a thing, so here: It's a poem I wrote about seven years ago at right around this time of year. Sharing my poetry isn't something I do much. Yes, I'm that lazy...)
aching to be born also
i watched an umber leaf
fall
tumble and spin
cradling the newborn mewling breath
of a wind, air
born of a planetary dance
in golden faltering light
amongst elephantine stalks
of a slower life
measured by the lurch and sway
of a slouching, stalking history
beneath a ceiling of exquisite
cerulean pain
leaf danced and played coy with the mottled light
and your hand
all to the chiming innuendo of your voice
dancing ended, bows were made
the cradling of the wind
died
as leaf and hand
embraced
then you were the leaf
cradling a fragrant breath
that air born of the planet's waltz
had gifted you
and your smile burnt all my world away
in that vanishing moment
i remember
i remember
aching to be born also
to dance against the end worm gyration of the world
and be the leaf within your grasp
c mdlockhart 2003
(Happy weekend, fellow travelers. Go play in some leaves...)
