RIC S. BASTASA


the dry leaves


you have an ear
i guess

for the sound of dry leaves
and voices calling for help
and footfalls
or footprints losing their ways
seeking for the way back home

i see you keeping a heap of them
not burning them but letting them be
humus of the earth

you lead the voices to the green mountains
their echoes becoming a symphony of bird songs

the footfalls and footprints
you give them your home as their home now
silent and sleeping and when they wake up
they look for you
their mother and guide

i wonder what kind of a star are you

Submitted: Monday, June 01, 2009
Edited: Monday, June 01, 2009

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