I just wanted to share this poem I wrote back in 2016.
wind rustles through the trees, sending leaves scattering to the
ground. I stare at patterns of fallen souls as they lay on the ground.
Between the falling leaves, I spy a squirrel or two. And between them,
water that trickles like blood from a cut. A mallard drifts lazily by in
the clear yet muddy colored water. Shorn stone leads down to the water
in layers of packed sediment. I want to lean towards the water, to look
over the edge, but hesitate. What if I should fall? The water looks deep
in places, far deeper than I can swim. But the beauty of the moment is
easy to take in. With the sky overcast, the clouds waiting to cry, I
can't help but feel at one with the world. The brisk breeze teases my
hair, leaving fallen debris in its wake. If only I could reach up to the
treetops and let the breeze carry me away.