Wild Dance

Whistling winds whip away at withered leaves

coercing them to sway and dance

into an invisible ballet,

like a stringless ventriloquist.

Airy and wispy, the strength amazes me

and I feel myself pulled

by nothing

towards nowhere

but on and on

nonetheless

and I wonder what allows

such a boisterous wraith

to wreak havoc on the elderly residents.

Angry turbulence and resentful gusts

I fight against on all vectors

trotting on myopic as a mule

saddled in dignity.

I ignore the dancing leaves

and pierce through the medium

like an arrow through flesh

and I continue through the contiguous solution,

heeding none of its warnings

of an immensity unseen

and far too visible,

and march on triumphant

only to be left dancing in the current

along side the foliage

I once ignored,

and hated.