“between the leaves”
Midday.
A shaded path beside the stream.
The grass glows in the heat.
Damp earth rises — sharp, clean —
with a faint scent of wet bark.
A first gust
turns.
A curl of dust rises at my feet.
The air carries a metal tang.
The stream clicks over stone,
answered by a soft rustle
somewhere in the trees.
Light breaks hard on the water.
The grass shifts once.
A small shape gathers in the sway.
A colour moves between the leaves.
A name I once whispered
seems to lift with the wind.
She flickers —
a brief, bright slip of form —
and vanishes.
.
