She, who is a fairy, sits in my tree and writes poems on leaves.
After she is done, she sends the leaves into the wind only to have the wind's whispers lose the words.
She continues to write regardless, determined her work will reach their destination.
I watch her through the window wondering what she writes.
Who is she writing to?
She reveals nothing.
She stops and ponders for a moment. I'm sure she is carefully pondering her words in her mind in perfect sequence.
Perhaps melancholy thoughts seen through golden sunshine fills her poetic eyes.
She gives me a wink.
She continues to write on emerald green leaves.
Once again she send her poems into the wind.
She scolds the wind. Not this time.
The wind whips around her giving her promises in the summer breeze.
Once again the wind's whispers loses her words in the wind.
She flutters up holding onto a leaf in her hand and off she goes chasing the wind and her poems.