Breath of a little whirlwind
on a warm November day
plucked up some leaves
from the neighbor's pile
and danced them in circles.
Arrested from our walk,
we both stood amazed
at the twirly bouncing
of lively dead leaves
above a clackety street.
Invisibly obvious, our airy
ballerina pirouetted there
a full three minutes before
releasing her larger leaves
to the ground as in a tease.
But still we saw tiny wisps
of lighter leaves and dust
spinning further away
until nothing remained
but a transparent grace.
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