Y Abril un poco más …

My street,
on
this Swedish
Spring day,
painted
relentlessly
grey

insists on
a
blue sky
above
grizzled
hues,

nordic
winds
caress my cheeks

I feel blood rushing.

last autumn’s
now
browned
dried
leafs

leave

brittled noises
on the local
thoroughfare
where nordic winds
rush

at earshot speed
crisply
criss-crossed

echos
of
a now
hardened golden brown
last year’s autumn
green shoot

who once stood out on a limb,
fell, sometime ago
intent on
following
the passing of the fall

I saw it rock and roll

to-day

the beautyful meaningless of the everyday

which tends to runaway from us

I heard it tumbling by, I want to hear it again.

I do confess
’tis was silent
when it made
me
turn my head.

It rolled,
leaving
behind
a moment

I can’t forget.