The Laughter on the Playground
11/11/2019

the rustling of the leaves,
bustling across the courtyard,
to an imaginary finish line,
only to be disrupted, by
an invisible prankster,
swirling them into a loop

sitting on the patio, cupping,
ohh! that warm cup-a-tea
shawl draped shoulders,
teased by the autumn breeze

weathervane spinning,
rooster at the helm,
croaking n creaking,
straining to twist,
with jester at its tail

childhood, prodded by simplicity,
watching oak let a few more loose,
floating to join ones on the ground,
and, if you hear carefully
the rustling sounds so much,
like laughter on the playground