The lapping of gentle water.
Dirt covered with colorful leaves.
The fall air is slightly sharp.
Resting quietly, half submerged is the rock.
Vermont’s green ripples,
Am I the only one broken?
A jagged piece of wood, broken.
Erupting from the water,
Breaking the formation of ripples.
Dangling from brethren, are the teasing leaves.
In solidarity is the rock.
Reaching for the sky, the mossy trunk becomes sharp.
Defy the smooth rock!
Time erodes and so does water.
Floating past are excited leaves,
Carried on their adventures by ripples.
How unjust! Ignored by marching ripples,
There is no time to waste, a plan, sharp!
Catch the journeying leaves,
Painted clumps broken!
Why do they visit the rock?
They watch the ripples,
And stare into the water.
Is the point too sharp?
Their gaze is broken,
Jumping from their reflection to the leaves.
Getting up, the attention leaves.
Stepping off of the rock,
Twigs are broken.
Left with the ripples,
Standing alone and sharp,
Destined to fall to the water.
The days are bitter and with the cold, my bark ripples.
The ground is frozen like a rock and the wind is sharp.
But I am not broken, all can be mended, I am excited to see water.