Words

Words

Falling from the sky,

They come as seeds,

And they grow as trees,

And their leaves are more

Words.

Words

Drip from the sun,

Oozing down to seep into the grass,

To be pulled into written roots,

To feed cold, shining new

Words.

Words

Tumble from the branches

Crisp and perfectly red,

Tucked in the breeze

They carry away

Words.

Words

Delicately collect,

Taking up space with blankness,

Only to be pulled up into the clouds,

A vast and endless supply of

Words.

Phenomenon

Lost in my mind

Filed away in some place

Added to over the years,

Each word comes new,

A progression from said

To every imaginable synonym.

Yet I shall find more,

Taking in the harvest

Of syllables,

Maybe I’ll find a gem

Amidst the soils

This time.