Leaf Grief
A pack of leaves at the end of a dead-end street.
Whirling without warning, surrounding invisible things.
Like a pack of wolves chasing a hobbled elk
Suddenly they are perfectly still...feasting.
If they had teeth, I think they would bite me.
A pack of leaves at the end of a dead-end street...
is a lot like grief.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2023
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