A single brown leaf
Floating down past my window
Causes no ripples.
Dead leaf lying still
In rhododendron's embrace
Looks like its at home.
Collette cranes her neck
To other side of the fence.
(Is the grass greener?)
Pregnant milkweed pod
Opens in the bright sunlight
Revealing its child.
The road is silent--
Only a soft tuneless voice
Whispered by the woods.
Even sharp thistles
Become soft, white and silken
To send forth new life.
Shadows on the trees,
Sharper than the leaves, themselves,
Carve distinct darkness.
Soft tap tapping;
Distant thrum of unseen plane;
Then silence returns.
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