There was a moment yesterday
when the sky exhaled
and a mosaic of leaves
pirouetted down from the trees,
spinning in graceful spirals, wafting down in gentle procession, each at its own pace, unconcerned with the others,
a full chorus of prima ballerinas.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
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More stories from Harper Lewis and writers in Poets and other communities.
Letter to my Daughter
You have a choice to make here: are you going to continue the cycle, or are you going to break it? Keeping your son away from me hurts him; there’s no question about that. I thought you were being hurt, and I was trying to protect you, not punish anyone when I kept your grandfather away from you. I have said that I was wrong and I am sorry, but there was never any malice involved.
By Harper LewisExclusive • 2 months ago
Comments (2)
What a beautiful visual. I could almost see the leaves drifting like tiny ballerinas.
Such a vivid, graceful snapshot of nature — the leaves truly feel like dancers on a quiet stage.