Author Information
Gusts
When I walk around outside,
sometimes I see Nature
playing at races.
Over a fleet of leaves,
my feet tread carefully home;
I would give much
to float for miles
in those leafy shoes.
Under those eyes,
peace would be nothing,
fear and death the same,
and every instant
a haze.
What dread works
could I never build
with those hands,
and what failures
could bother me?
The leaf stands
aloof, and I
can only watch it
passing by
my thinking life.
