Once green and verdant,
winter leaves sit and decay
methodically
on mud-caked concrete, gazing
up at their former glory
Tag: leaves
Over bleached wooden skin
In silent canyons
mossy drapes-
drawn over bleached
wooden skin-
hush those who
dare intrude
each sentinel
gazes dully
as its once-verdant
children flutter
away to the soft
floor and die.
Rust-hued hair
Cold does not see class.
Nor race, religion –
Where you come from,
where you are now
and where you plan to go in the future.
Cold is egalitarian.
Cold is just.
When the trees wake up in a panic
wondering where their rust-hued hair
has gone –
they stand
side by side
with the children, waddling penguins in their parkas
as the school bus is late again.
