Grey, crunchy, lifeless, scattered all around.
Thousands strewn about, forgotten and flattened.
Recently released from the weight of winter.
Waiting. Under tire. Under paw. Under foot.
And then a few begin to skip.
Soon hundreds join in a fast run, away and then back.
And with a gust, a rising, whirling dance begins.
Again and again. Resting then running, then dancing, free.
You notice. Laying, watching “swarms” overhead.
You join. Arms out, spinning, skipping, running.
You laugh. Waiting on the threshold of the next swirling frolic.
You rise. Your spirit dancing, twirling, fluttering “like butterflies.”
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