A dried, brown leaf,
crinkled and solitary,
blown into a dance by the wind.
It skitters, jumps,
twirls, and skids,
over the cold, hard, surface of the snow.
I hear the pattern
like quickly tapping
staccato shoes on a dusty dance hall floor.
I was sitting at my desk by the front window when I observed the little brown leaf twirling in the wind. It was a bitterly cold, grey day, but the leaf looked and sounded so happy. It was a moment of unexpected beauty and joy between seemingly lifeless objects, the leaf, the wind and the snow.