Idyll/Idle

A tree branch falls. Nobody notices. The wind lifts and drops five dead leaves onto the sidewalk just outside God’s own, moss-covered house. Not a single child stops to watch. High above, a Nimbostratus cloud opens itself up, letting small but heavy drops escape from its belly. A mangled, dirt-smudged tortie cat hides under an apricot Nissan Murano. Wooden chimes fill the quiet, empty spaces between chirping birds, passing cars, and slamming doors. I see all this—I hear all this—from my place by the window. I feel restless. What shall I do? Perhaps, I’ll join the leaves.