Hesitation As An Artform

Vintage Words


Winds rush down rustling tree boughs

heavy with color turned leaves. The cold

penetrates passers by below who drift

indeterminably toward the object of their

desire. Leaves glance knit hats and

pause against leather goves.


Suspended between autumn skies and snow

a six year old becomes hesitation pushed

back by a brisk stalling wind. The pile

of leaves float just beyond the tight

hand restraining a short legged run among

bright reds and yellows.


It is not just a kid thing; the desire

to take a plunge into a raked stack of leaves

in Autumn. Design is mixed with dignity

and there is no head long dive into Maple

and Ginko offal due to the necessity

purches by artfully thoughtful hesitation.


Release comes easy as memories of six year

old excursions that cared nothing for broken

bones. Elders watch the care free romp through

every hill of wind blown leaves. The season

waits, captured in winds rushing down to land 

in laughter upon the tossled hair of unloosed

little humans.







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