Leaves In the Wind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Like the wind she moves faster than our legs can carry us. For when the wind slows, she oft will disappear.

Submitted: July 14, 2018

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Submitted: July 14, 2018

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Like a tornado she moves faster than our legs can carry us.

Too small and frail are these leaves to keep pace with this unrelenting wind

In the wake of the rushing current we tumble over one another, struggling to keep ourselves up. 

Finding comfort with each other, knowing we're all just hoping for a moment in time that the flow will slow, and allow us to gather our minds.

The moment never comes.
For when the wind slows, it oft will disappear.

So we keep in motion.

Green are the veins, fresh off the tree.
Meant to slowly dry, as time goes by.

Yet we've dessicated quickly, condemned for all the tears shed.

Still, we know there comes a time where wet eyes only aid our imperception.

As I have reached the instant in which there is no water left for this form of guttation.

The smaller leaves, torn from branches by the chaos in the stirring.

They seem to have more fluid in them than I have ever had strength to hold within.

So I keep my pace and hold them tightly, that we might enjoy a little more than a breeze.

In time I hope, the wind will find, that while she raced by with hands outstretched in search of pollen. 

We were here the whole time.


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