Window of Poem

Window of Poem

 

Out the window I see a weeping willow tree whose leaves barely avoid the ground

To the left of what I see there is a pile of oak leaves. Even rustled by the wind, they rest without sound

However, today something is off. the leaves are all gone, all removed. in their place is a big black trash bag. stuffed and round

This happens with the changing of the seasons. Sometimes I split the bag. Once, there was something inside worth being found

Outside now I see a frog with a leaf atop his head. The stretched shadow appears as a prince crowned

In the distance I see an old tree; I can't tell the type. Close up I see an open book; I can't see the text. I hope it's something profound