...or tries to...

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Leaf Dance


video


It's been that kind of week, where every minute seems staged for a particular purpose, everything scheduled. It ends with three deadlines. So there's been no time for anything that's not planned, for drifting. But I was standing for a few minutes on the back porch, taking a breath, and saw a small brown leaf suspended from a tree branch by one single spider web. It spun, just because the uneven breeze made it so.

It was such a small thing, I know. But for some reason, it almost broke my heart.

5 comments:

Daydreamer said...

Oh Amy! It was PLAYING with you! As if it waited for you to look up from your concentration for a minute and then it was there saying "la la la lalala la la..." !
How Utterly Sweet.... and Magical that you caught it to share with us....
And SO Ephemeral.... the Minutes dance with us like that too.... only we usually don't notice....
Deadlines are so hard to live with sometimes! But Time waits for no one....
BTW I did a blog on Embroidery on my Other blog .... when you have time it will be there!

Amy said...

Exactly. That's it exactly. I'm not even sure if I would have seen it if the week hadn't been the way it has-we get these messages when we need them most, don't you think?

I can hardly wait to read your embroidery post! I'' be there!

Sans! said...

You wouldn't miss it, Amy. Not you.
I am glad I came and shared this.

I feel a little pensive too watching it.Yet, it was also uplifting. The dance of life and the spin of death, all at once.At least for me.

Amy said...

The dance of life and the spin of death. That's wonderful, Sans. It reminds me of the men in Mexico who tie their legs to spinning wheels and whirl-so alive, but courting death at the same time...

rosanna said...

Soldati di Ungaretti

Si sta come
d'autunno
sugli alberi
le foglie

Very poor translation

Soldiers by Ungaretti

We stay like
in autumn
on the trees
the leaves

This poem was written in 1917 by a then young man who became one of the major Italian poets.
I believe that your leaf, dancing and twirling as it is , sums up the idea of the poet.
So beautiful, so sad , so human.