The commotion of squirrels
on bark above me,one leaf freed.
It spirals from the elm,
mercurial andlaughing,
torn parchment from scriptures.
Meandering inspace
in helical eccentricity,
uncertainty in itshovering,
instantaneously at rest.

Again, the windbears it up
onward to a more sublime, astralplane.
Sugar veins on the surface
spread in fractalpatterns -
the runes of creation.
And I think and Iwatch.
How like the leaf the mind is
free and fickle,
flowing with fluidity and finesse.
At times, there isinertia.
Then, motion - a ripple,
or current of preciousthought.

Thought?
And what am I thinking now?
Idon't know.
I guess I just sit here
for a while
under this majestic elm.
Thinking, waiting,watching.
How quickly time has flown.
I've grown like asummer vine.

I guess times change, like thewind,
like the leaf, like the mind.
Yes.
That's justthe way it is.