Yellow Thumb Prints

Something I wrote one fall afternoon ...

Yellow Thumb Prints

Oh look at you
Up there in the air
Black limbs stretched out right
Like witches straggled hands

Yellow thumb prints you possess
At your finger tip ends
Holding on to their identity
Before their inevitable fall

Yet what beauty and what grace
Is apparent in their leaving
Soft and levitated decent
Eventually to the ground clinging

Oh how everything must have a place!
A landing point
A safe haven
And how it leaves a trace
Of it's interconnection
between each stage

I think I am a thumb print now
Falling slowly toward the ground
My limbs outstretched and open wide
The wind gusting at all sides
It has taken me
for a ride
and taken my identity

No longer am I way up high
A part of me has slowly died
But someday, again, I will see the sky.

Nov. 5, 2008