If I was to fall,
to light upon the grass
in the autumn of it all,
the world wouldn’t hear me.
So many of us just fall and
people only notice us, kick us aside,
on the path to their own fall.
The others don’t drop
with the sound of crashing limbs.
They sing no death song.
Only if the fickle winds of being
drive ahead those who have fallen,
shall all hear them rustle
and collide in a sonata
of whir and crackle.
All save me.
I shall float silently as
I once did when I flew
on the coursing winds
among those not yet fallen.
I shall swirl and race past all,
a soft-inked quill lifting
nightwings in silent hunt
for your beating heart.
Each new breath, each exhalation
of line, life and love, supports
my flight in a near-death tours en l’air
and gliding glissade on my way
to grasp the tenderness of you.
Looked down from the back porch and saw this bit of white fluff, as out of place as autumn leaves in August. But there it was! From that came the first line…
Linked for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.