the wind scatters leaves in gusts on the street,
as I watch,
they are gathered,
(invisible hands)
(invisible hands)
tumbled,
tossed,
raised in a little vortex of perfection--
tossed,
raised in a little vortex of perfection--
a moment,
a mysterious convergence.
a mysterious convergence.
just as quickly
they are released,
free to fly about on the wind again.
© Kelly Mine 2014
Kind of like the children in our families, but hopefully, they will converge again and again . . . beautiful, Kelly.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Rhonda.
DeleteI wrote this in response to just such a situation. My whole family converged this weekend in response to a crisis. We were gathered together to ride out the storm.