Falling
F
a
l l
in
g
in love isn’t so much
(falling) as paying
attention to what pulls
you t o w a r d s
someone else.
F
a
l l
i
n
g
water can echo or storm,
babble and breathe quiet
but either way, moving is best–
(sitting still makes for stagnant,
and one can’t have that.)
f
a l i
l n
g
l v
e a e
s
are turning slowly,
moving–yes–towards change,
a season of quiet
like gentle green blankets
laid out on the lawn.
I welcome the shhhhhh…..
of the leaves
and look to the day
six weeks hence–when those
same trees, barren and bare,
will leave a winter view,
unimpeded by All That Green
so I can pay
attention to what pulls
me towards falling
all
over
again.
