Running Leaf Above the Moor

by Renwick Berchild

She says I am the leaf sent out to sail the air across the moor.

Quietude and Rolling are my calling, to be tossed and savaged
like the sea.

Respite is a foreigner, who gallops as a steed
far from my body, as if it were the conduit of its destruction.

Fast I journey, fast and frighteningly thin,
delicate in the distant reaching wind, tempting gods
to shred me on a whim, but on and farther on I go.

With each heave of earth
I never meet with death, the piling graves beneath me
calling out like choirs, cradling me upon a forlorn song.

These two faces of mine twirl and twine
with dreams that I might have had, if given a wooden hand to hold.

She says that I am a leaf, subjugated to the service of the breeze.

But, as I am pushed hither-thither, shoved through forest,
meadow, valley,

it is beautiful for I am free.

Free, and moving,
moving ever faster across the wilds and moors,
as if I were destined

to race the darkness and the light, the turning of the world and her shores.

13 Comments to “Running Leaf Above the Moor”

  1. That’s great stuff!

  2. This has an amazing impact. It transported me out of myself and into a rich world. I particularly like the line “These two faces of mine twirl and twine”. Lots of verbs here. Good to read.

  3. Well done… I very much like it!

  4. Do you mind if I share it on Facebook? Credited to you… I would not steal — I write my own!

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