Of Leaves and Children

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In an early Autumn rain

golden leaves stick like glue

to the spot where they fall,

but when winds dry the dampness

from the floor of the earth,

it relieves wet leaves

of their burden.

Freed leaves grow restless!

They drift and scurry!

Some stay close to home,

but some scatter far, far away.

Leaves are like children!

Speaking of leaves, here is a haiku for Ragtag Daily Prompt: Elusive

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An elusive leaf

snatched up by a gust of wind

dances on for miles

Foto Friday #13

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Echo the Footsteps – a haiku

Footsteps, now silent,

resonate as memories

across the old bridge

This bridge is gone now. It was a feature I dearly loved in my neighborhood, but because it was difficult to maintain, the political powers-that-be decided to remove it. I used to go there daily to observe nature, the changing seasons, and either the swift movement or sluggish ripple of the creek below. Dozens of photos like the one above – and my footsteps across this bridge – are cherished memories.

We Are Branches

DSC03213 (4)On the tree of life

rooted by my ancestors

I am but a branch

The word “branch” always means family to me because of my husband’s fondness for genealogy. As he spends hours and hours researching our family history, he continually strives to learn more, to go back farther and farther, and to correct inaccuracies in existing records. When you are aware of the generations that have come before you, you realize what a small twig you are in the grand scheme of things.

My response to today’s one-word prompt: Branch

Photo taken at the city park in Auckland, New Zealand