I want to do that. I do. Lay words down like a slow drift of a leaf caught by the babble of a creek over stones and branches. Wisped along soft and quiet like, within the profundity of its nature moment, freed from what bound it to the branch.
The play of shadow and light flicking under the vast blue between the stretch of bark and branch reaching for the Sun’s grace. Of all that dancing glitter of light greeting the leaf in her flow now that she if free. Lilting on the surface, going along in the forever away from what held her till the season changed.
It doesn’t matter a destination in this flow down stream hailing rocks, twigs, insects, moss, and roots. A snare will give capture. It’s what happens.
There’s no consideration of that . Not now. Why would there be when the drift on the surface holds such pleasures in the sunlight flicker, passing a wave of goodbye to float along to no-where-in-particular cause it is the nature of this moment.