respond,
you
tree leaf,
flittering between
the winds of inevitability
and the stable branch
of my bedroom floor.
respond
without speaking
for I speak not
the language
of responsibilities
and expectations
and "but-my-flight-leaves-tomorrow"s.
respond
in lovetongue
as spoken
only by your movements
so symmetric
and yet abstract
on the background of
conventional life.
respond,
you
trembling brother,
so nearly
lost on me now,
our language
almost impossible
to speak over
such great distance.
quiver,
if you must,
leafling,
but please don't
break free.
respond
to my unspoken plea
that you never leave.

04/29/2002

Posted on 04/29/2002
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