Flying leaves

Sacred roots held to the sowing moment

Opulent, the trees tell stories of quiet mists,

Droughts, whereabouts of so many hearts

It keeps the memory of baby birdies

The resting place of butterflies

The little boy whom will live forever shrouded by glimpses of his own childhood

A grandmother sweeping leaves with a straw broom, a broom made of dead leaves

Leaves that once transcended the green photosynthesis

from the rainbow hidden in the white light

light from a distant sun

The leaves of yucca chopped into bowls of soup to be served to the plastic dolls

Play Indians with headpieces made out of coconut leaves

Winged by children’s dreams

Scorched leaves crackling in the fire, charred

discarded leaves fading into ashes

leaves at the dinner table

exotic flavored leaves

Tender leaves, dry leaves,

Poisonous leaves covering the sex at the first awakeners of science

The boy lifts it to the sunlight outside

Trying to read his destiny written on the green veins

and drink water from it in pure fountains

while a shaman squeezes the heeling juices into bows full of hope

Leaves flying in the wind

Whirling dancers ate the moment’s pulse

Describing arabesques, lines, hieroglyphs

Crackling silent from the twigs crying their loss

Leaves laying on soft ground

Buried, expecting the metamorphosis of time

To transform them in sap to new leaves to come