Connected
a flock of yellow
leaves
just flew across
my window
wonder where they’ll land
maybe one will wind up
in small hands
and they’ll know just what to do
adults tend to step on leaves
or sweep them away
like trash
children are different
they pick them up
and make them new again
and twirl them in the air
and take them home
to keep forever
traced on paper
and shaded
in color
the veins of a leaf
uncovered
like the roots of a tree
that slowly grew
up
TL