My Beautiful Life






“I prefer the absurdity of writing poems

to the absurdity of not writing poems.”

From Possibilities by Wislawa Szymborska


My Beautiful Life

I walked alone this afternoon.

October’s velvet light slipped through

The shade of a Big Leaf Maple

And tattooed my arms with shadow.


Erratic winds stirred the branches

And a scattering of leaves fell

Like confetti before my eyes.


They danced minuets in rhythm

To the crosscurrent of the breeze

In their tan and yellow dresses.


They twirled in celebration

Of my life, my beautiful life.

And when the wind died, they stopped, as

I walked alone this afternoon.

5 thoughts on “My Beautiful Life

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