pink petals dare the breeze
to catch them as they hurtle to the ground—
yet shudder if one breath is ill at ease
within their range of microscopic sound.
Clear observation falls as arrogance
upon them, your stark shadow gives them night.
They brave the wind but scatter at your glance;
you stare, and they embark in mimic flight.
Without a mien or purpose of their own
they lend each bough a temporary face
till furrowless they dodge your shadow’s frown
and flutter to some more idyllic place.
No motion rises in their hearts, nor will:
what wind alone created, it makes still.
Copyright © Claudia
Gary Annis, all rights reserved