Even the babe
has to detach. It's part of
the birthing aftermath. As leaves
on the trees in the fall
blow off their colors, red,
gold, and all. So, every branch stands
naked against the crisp autumn
air. And the ground is a blanket
of leaves flying in pairs. Two threads
of yarn woven together, a weave,
unraveling and separating. The
green is now fading into yellow
and blue. Not part of the same
hue. But just as colorful a strand -
not stranded together.
Sep 12, 2022
Sep 12, 2022 at 7:15 AM UTC
Even the babe
has to detach. It's part of
the birthing aftermath. As leaves
on the trees in the fall
blow off their colors, red,
gold, and all. So, every branch stands
naked against the crisp autumn
air. And the ground is a blanket
of leaves flying in pairs. Two threads
of yarn woven together, a weave,
unraveling and separating. The
green is now fading into yellow
and blue. Not part of the same
hue. But just as colorful a strand -
not stranded together.
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