Out my window, there is no sound.
The leaf let's go of the branch,
It floats like breath and
Lands without notice.
But I heard.
It tore away from its mother home,
And the terror it felt made a screech
As it raced headlong to the hard pebbles
And hit the earth with a smack.
Out my window, those trees are motionless.
Immovable objects that leave, I saw, their
Detritus on the things owned and meaningful--
With the seasons, swept away.
But I saw.
I saw them dancing, leaping in the wind
Last week-- and one night, my feet cold
And my heart hammering from a dream, I saw
Them bent towards each other, whispering.