Winds Take the Green
As I devour the last remnants of this butterscotch candy,
As I strangle the bird with my pumpkin-carved eyes,
As I catch a leaf stem lurking into the knitted beanie I found downtown,
As I sit on the bench – let’s take a moment.
Where has granny smith’s flushed cheeks gone?
The dinosaur-claw-shaped leaf petals,
A meringue of orange, red, maybe yellow,
A living artist’s palette of warm tones.
Kidnapping the burdened souls and
Jarring them in its iron trunk
Where spirits mingle and call out to mother nature
“Let us bloom into star-catchers, each vine a caregiver.”
Now this is what I call a painting meant to be-
The maple tree right next to me.
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