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Little Beautiful Things
The only thing that felt real before her foot touched the pool
Was the dead leaf that licked its own reflection.
The wind was startled
And she could see it from the way it brushed her hair.
Spinning, it may get whisked away
Into the air, upon another soil
Far from its roots, buried,
And given rest,
Until the sand and earthworms accept it,
Seeing life and substance coexist
And they all become a part of each other as dew binds them.
And so little beautiful things
Give in to deep things.
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It is just that period of the year in Nigeria where the trees are shedding their leaves and the sky is preparing itself for the warmth about to come in. So I was just inspired by this idea to write this.