The Edge of the Wind

I find myself floating about in a moment of serenity.
I'm surrounded by naked trees, too sleepy to notice the cold.
My feet find their discarded clothing in a colorful carpet, and my heart finds joy in each crisp step.
My body is the champion of this hide and seek.

The air is still and grey, almost permeable.
I want nothing more than to touch it,
I know that here other fingers wait, just hidden behind these veils of mist that enchant me.
For a moment, silence sings about how small this world is.

I hear a rushing in the distance.
It breaks the silence, and I turn to find the source.
It grows louder, and suddenly my eyes light upon a mass rolling towards me.
A mass of twisting swirling fallen tree clothes.

The edge of the wind has found me, and it's racing ever closer.
I steady myself, willing my feet to throw roots deep into the ground and hold me in stillness.
The stillness that I know will soon be a moment passed.
The mass, the wall of brilliantly colored leaves, rushes and cascades as the ocean courting the moon.
For a moment there is nothing but the wall and I, just two beings in the entire universe.

The stillness shatters and the rush of power and sound nearly fragment me along with it.
My roots do just enough to keep me upright, and I'm not afraid.
I feel jagged leaf edges kiss my cheeks and caress my hair, leaving tiny red memories behind.
The stinging love doesn't faze me.
The wind simply wants to remind me how green the leaves were,
And how sad they are to have died.