Forest for the trees

The leaves on the trees move just enough to
show off their creative shades as a slow
breeze passes through leaving things just as
they were before, like a phase. The ground
still retains the effect of being slightly damp
from a past days rain.

Stones sit silent like new fallen snow,
decorated in a glistening pinstripe professing
the evidence of another's trail. A fallen tree
covers objects that once thrived below,
convinced of growing too tall, post-pardon,
no bail.

A solemn leaf waits in a standstill, the
mornings dew collected in it's curves. One
drop trespasses too closely to the edge and
falls, now the leaf blows away. The forest
knows the tree is gone.