I had to reblog this poem. Its a magical tale. I hope you all will agree with me. Please read. Visit Maja’s site and express your thoughts. If you are not following, please do.
Look at this leaf.
Where did it come from?
Stuck in a mud, like a
discarded grief from a weeping willow.
I like its shape.
Follows my hand. Pair it
in two and you can make a glove
or a puppet doll that says “I love you!”
It’s full of wavy hurdles,
a catepillar’s slalom track.
Can be frozen, curled or wet,
wears all season’s colors like a traffic light.
Enjoys to float, especially in waters of Hoogvliet
rushes to meet other leaves,
while gives a ride to marsh fleas.
Once it went disguised,
I couldn’t recognize it.
Dressed in the lost feathers of
floating white hearts and undived “quack, quack”
pretends to be a Sioux Holy Man.
It may come in different sounds too.
Like a bandmaster, it orchestrates winter winds in dramatic
Or, when a thickening fog occupies city parks
still dark and tainted from night,
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