Roy Herndon Smith
Owning nothing, leaves
in breezes casting shadows
dancing on the ground,
through the window, on
the desk, into eyes, into
miming, dancing mind.
Owning nothing, leaves
drifting to the ground, into
rustling piles, children
jumping in, running
through the stillness of the light,
of the drifting mind.
Owning nothing, leaves
scattering mind, emptiness,
into everything.
dust 