The Remains Of A Leaf

Crisp and crunchy,

fragile and brittle.

The brown, shriveled leaf

 crumbled in a hand,

shredded to pieces

 scattering to the concrete.

Not wavering on

this windless day,

the trees stood silent,

not whispering

a single sway.

Uttered not one peep

the chestnut sparrow

hopped to the curb.

A fairy-tale sky,

pretty blue,

cotton balls of white

lay solitary above;

without the sight of

soaring black birds

in curious circles.

The poky grass,

green like that leaf

maybe once was,

leaned neither

left nor right,

standing tall

without the intimidating

stare of the wind.

 

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