is it hard to be a leaf on the wind
I thought philosophers should have wondered, wandering
they pondered many things
losing the Age of Gold.
a leaf on the wind,
can it imagine itself a bird
with far to go, here's a new life starting,
it thrills with
the jeweled possibilities
in all its light leafed veins
this endless floating.
when the wind dies down
is that when things start to crumble?
storytellers could tell you
a thing or two about that
at least Hans Andersen
who knew the small fir tree uprooted
longed for the garlanding to continue
and itself to be told stories.
it was not to be.
but I'm still floating endlessly
I muse,
though I am no philosopher.
mary angela douglas 14 october 2017
I thought philosophers should have wondered, wandering
they pondered many things
losing the Age of Gold.
a leaf on the wind,
can it imagine itself a bird
with far to go, here's a new life starting,
it thrills with
the jeweled possibilities
in all its light leafed veins
this endless floating.
when the wind dies down
is that when things start to crumble?
storytellers could tell you
a thing or two about that
at least Hans Andersen
who knew the small fir tree uprooted
longed for the garlanding to continue
and itself to be told stories.
it was not to be.
but I'm still floating endlessly
I muse,
though I am no philosopher.
mary angela douglas 14 october 2017
