I sat upon the ground, feeling the wind
Rustling the copper leaves when a blue jay
Flew past the oak tree. Burrowing into the
Underbrush, I watched as their wings slipped
Through the lower branches of the bushes.
I stood and listened to the autumn leaves
Being further shaken underfoot as I basked
In the early afternoon sun. This was the last
Day where there would be light, so I waited.
An ashen squirrel took the wind's lead and
Followed the trail of dried-up amber, slipping
Between the neighbor's fence. You blink but
Once, and only once, before the creature
Has departed. I pondered then, if I should
Take my leave, as well. The sun would
Return in a few days time, after the rain.
But then the firewood would dampen,
And it's scent would change with the blue jay's
Croon echoing across the valley, far away.
Birds are free, like the drifting wind in autumn.
You cannot take a picture of freedom, so that
Is why I took my time admiring the sun and
Descending leaves, while there was light.
After today, the birds and squirrels would
Flock to another harbor. Just as I would
Awaken to find dewdrops on the window,
Rainstead softening the breeze, and embers
Becoming darker alongside the northern sky.
So I took a picture of the oak tree and
All the autumn leaves nestled in between,
Then took my leave once the sun had
Reached its peak and another breeze had
Passed. Time is like the wind, after all, and
I have always been a quiet passerby.
…
Along the way home, I saw the neighbor had
A rabbit statue, coated in a layer of dust.