A tree branch quavers in the wind. Pebble-shaped droplets gather along the dipping curve of a leaf, rolling merrily toward its tip. They merge into a larger pebble and roll over the leaf’s edge. The drop clings to the surface above it. A tiny thread of water stretches between it and the leaf.
The thread breaks.
The drop tumbles through the air, jiggling slightly as kinetic force arcs through its body. Sunlight curves off its surface, creating the faintest hint of a rainbow. A thousand images pass through the drop: the trunk of the tree, the branches above it, a man walking his Dalmatian, a girl speeding past on roller skates, a bee flitting below the drop, a bird humming above.
The drop strikes the puddle beneath it, exploding outwards into a dozen shattered pieces. The water gathers inwards and rises up, ejecting a single perfect sphere. It becomes a perfect dotted “i”. The liquid tower collapses and the sphere vanishes. The remnants of ripples bounce off the puddle’s boundaries and fade away.
Your poem made me homesick for the big old walnut tree that spreads itself outside my kitchen window. I love to watch it change with the seasons. I enjoyed the choice of words you used to create energy in your poem: quavers, dipping, rolling,clings, breaks, jiggling, exploding, etc. I could visualize the leaf's descent from beginning to end.
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