The Wind's Fingertips

Leaves rustling,

Falling crunching.

Wind reaches for them,

Brushing their fingertips.

At a foot of bark,

Reaching, reaching, reaching,

Swinging over a branch,

And with a thud I land.

The tranquil of the scenery,

Watching before me.

Sun setting down, birds chirping.

Flocks fly ahead, leaving a souvenir.

Look below you,

Breaking the scene,

Be bold, be strong,

Step, step and leap!

I gasp as I see the cliff,

A rock dangerously hanging,

I slowly step forwards and reach,

for the wind’s fingertips.