Poem: Wet Windy Leaves

 

Wet Windy Leaves

 

hunchbacked imps

slouch over pawls

of tousled gray grass,

similar to sprockets

on the clockwork of the lawn,

telling time in fits

moored to the quirks of gusts,

watch!

them flip-flop en masse, 

a shambolic monastery

of unhappy little turtles--

and yet then, sudden,

jumping like mousetraps

on a lark,

watch, watch!

how they

crinkle as if to snap in swift danger,

tickling each other to bits,

or to latch on with wistful pride--

as if they might be stars

in a dark swatch of sky,

granting yet another child's game

a fondest, most lovely wish

with every stagger of midrib,

every galumph.

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3/22/25 changed punctuation, addressed a typo

3/21/25 ... a hideously large number of edits...