NEW LEAVES

The Grand Opening begins with a simple wave,

Color-coded pale green and thin as paper;

Pollen dusts the air and every breath; and

Sun screens stretch across small ribs and veins,

As new leaves unfold in the pages of a new book,

Huddled together on the side of the read or the unread.

Each one takes its place in line;

Birdsong and petals are thrown into the air,

Scattered like sweets or confetti for bystanders;

Along the sprouting procession, there is a harbor of

Shade from the harsh, singed light spewed upon the

Growing march; it cools the rapid-fire production

Of a circus canopy spread across the tree tops,

Raised high on thick trunks, while wood-fiber sheets

Fan the air and stir the whispers 

Of what is to come before the next leaf

Opens, and each page read, instead of all others,

Collapses the wave. 

© cmheuer, 2015