The rustling leaves lay battle with currents,
Twisting and churning, stillness so fleeting,
As mossy spectators observe from the concrete,
And witness, this one-sided, merciless beating.
Leaves rip from their branches, torn from their brethren
and pulled under water, so swiftly as deer,
The stray flow downstream, wounded and fallen,
But could salvation past the brown dam appear?
A leaf, in clouds, peaceful, ethereal.
It’s clear.