August 8, 2011
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
the final breath of the moon
seeps into the river
and waits.

The trees are unaware at first
still in hiding
from the dark vigil that is night.
A whisper carries on the wind:
It’s coming.

The river murmurs
to the rocks
purple imitations of life
mixed with green and blue:
It’s coming.

A red-blossomed leaf
from its branch and floats
gently down
into the water.

The crisp autumn sun rises
lighting the stillness
will music
and colors of

The leaf falls over the waterfall
and tumbles
down the
and into a tiny pool of light.
It dies
as morning breaks.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback