Belonging

The wind is blowing no more

The fallen leaves are resting

After landing now

They’re making a crunchy sound as I walk on them

The naked tree is coming to terms

With its bare-all look.

No longer trying to hide from the nearby bench

exchanging glances with the flowing creek

The trail is blazing bright with

Red, orange leaves

I am getting ready to walk on fire on a freezing day

The trail is the only color left

In this grey landscape

The rising Sun, shivering

Takes a flicker or two

From the trail

To burn for the day ahead.

The leaves have decided to live

Unapologetically, or it seems to me so.

Happy to be settled on a trail,

Adorn it with a red, orange hue

Leaving trees longing for them

To come back To them soon.

A little bird

looks puzzled, wonders

contemplating

fallen leaves and the tree

what is ‘belonging ‘ to

something, someone, somewhere

all about??

-Nehal

(Dedicated to The Timber Creek)

Poetry, my poems © Copyright 2018, Nehal

Advertisements