The Chase

I rest by the fence,
passing winds chilling my cheeks.
My stillness, matching only the aging wood,
The suns rays piercing clouds.
We wake and work, move and motion.
The winds of nature whistle through the leaves,
Overturned by the winds of change,
The rousing and spitting beasts chug along.
The shadows of people long past, wisp by.
I sit still and hear the birds,
Their squeaks defeated by the roaring metal.

A bug crawls along, the little fella sits a while,
My stillness is all, the quietness of my clouds,
One leaf falls by the wayside, the trees still whistling,
One little bug on one little leaf.
I close my eyes,
and listen to the soundless noises

All the world still moves,
They run and chase, the leaf in the wind.
The eternal chase, a circle of motion.
The winds passes me,
The leafs dancing around me.
Peace and quiet, my little quiet clouds.
With my new-found friends,
A bug, a leaf and an old fence