Windy Night, Spirals of leaves and Street Lamps

The lot lit up in orange light

was overgrown with the little things

people left behind: papers,

cigarettes, coffee cups,

piles of dead leaves and perennial pedals, 

were left sputtering, battling it out

with the wind and the concrete.

I gathered the image of intricate play

as i pushed the column of carts through 

the empty lot, as i locked the broken picket fencing

that went unsold, as i pushed towards the end of my shift.

It is always this time of night that i become susceptible to the idea,

that my destiny lies with the trash, that i too am intertwined and spiraling up

on the wind. 

The thought unfolds itself behind my eyes and in the corners- the nooks 

and cracks in consciousness-as the wind kicks up a cup, and a few leaves.

For a moment, i am swept up in it; for a moment, i have been set free with the idea that i too am entirely disposable.  

Reviews

[Desert Dreamer]

To be one with our surroundings is natural for humans, we change to become more like the place we live. You have made the garbage blowing in the wind beautiful. Thank you for sharing.