Little Prayers of Leaf

Drifting into white-gold daydreaming

…and all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves.

— from To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf, 1927.

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friday, watching a little honeybee 
in the blackberry brambles—
he has his work to do,
I mine

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Little prayers of leaf falling softly from the sky. Plum leaf and a cloud study in soft pastel.

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buttercup afternoon light 
  over the water

bright blue whoosh! of air 
  sending little prayers of leaf 
falling softly from the sky,
sweet descent of good death 
turning in ribbons of wind

whoooooooshh,
trees painting pavement

whoooooooooosh,
the beautiful devastated 
  heart of things

scatter of secrets 
  sailing downstream

body breathing easy and still
with a lingering edge
  of something mellow,
like desire (or melancholy 
  (or distance))

now sit back and deep breaths and 
  forgetting the world awhile —
a boat the colour of lust,
and thank you and kiss me 
whispered to the sky 

whoooooshhhh,
drifting into white-gold 
  daydreaming

whooooooooooooshh,
dark soft kiss of vast 
  sweetness

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