I sit in solitude by the window
as the wind rustles the leaves outside.
The smell of summer is in the air
And of rain.
The thirsty trees turn their leaves to the sky in hopeful prayer.
I wonder as I watch the leaves shift and dance,
how anyone could want to be anywhere else?
How I could want to be anywhere else?
But I find I have not yet learned contentment,
a virtue in everything but title,
and restlessness hums inside my bones.
Not always, but sometimes.
It is there today, a hunger I can’t feed.
So instead, I watch the leaves
and try to be the tree.
Growing outwards, into the earth and sky,
without taking a single step.