Thursday, January 29, 2015

leaves
skid down the street
like lobsters
like crabs
on the floor of the sea.
brown and arched
they rattle and waltz
and stop and go.
how'd you get here?
i ask.
we fell off a tree!
the young voices cry out
then they snicker and laugh
and race each other
ahead of my feet
as i walk behind
their exuberant lead.

3 comments:

  1. Charming. Its infectious.
    I think the above is derived from knowing the author and knowing you have no predeliction for making such a frequent thing.

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    Replies
    1. Well, there is such thing as poetic license, but I didn't need much here.

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