Fall Melody
A canopy of leaves
unfurl like smoke,
as the wind tosses.
Limbs reach out,
loving hands
brushing cheeks.
Looking skyward
towards the aging limbs;
twisted and gnarled
akin to arthritic fingers
beckoning to follow.
In the winter
of it’s age,
whispers can be
heard in the rustle
of brittle leaves.
“Be still”
the whisper calls.
Heart listens,
then obeys.
Teresa Gale
C 2004
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