Witness

Witness

There is a small stubborn leaf—no, two— clinging to the wind-stripped mulberry tree. Each twirls and dangles by an invisible thread at the very tip of the longest reaching branch, like suspended aerialists about to unravel their silks. Any minute now—any second, really—one or both will give way to the slightest nudge of a breeze, a gentle palm at the small of the back, and pirouette to the ground. Even as I notice them, willing them to hang on, I realize what a miracle it is to witness the handing over of one season to the next in that brief moment between dark and light before day takes its first breath.

Poet: Ellen Rowland
Source: @StephanieCarneySubstack
Books: @AbeBooks

In that brief moment between dark and light.

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