April 09, 2004


the way the mist lays on the lake in the mornings
is quite beautiful
and sometimes it is not.
It seems to depend upon
the way the lines of the tree tops
draw across each other and across the sky.
They depend upon each other for their beauty.

I took a walk in the woods today for you.
I could not have done it for myself.
Two trees were holding hands and
I parted them as I passed through, returning
their bare branches to their tender touch.
And traces of this year’s last snow lay on the ground
like puffs of mildew.

Thoughts drop like a snowstorm in April
never touching ground, finding no home.
The sun slices through the clouds;
leaves fly like birds on the wind;
and I am here to see it.

Posted by leya at April 9, 2004 09:13 AM