Things that are softer

under the golden aspens:

today’s regrets;

white bark curling off the trunk like paper;

your laughter: a chuckle, then buoyant;

branches reaching over the path;

a forgotten memory from four years ago;

birds chirping on a breeze;

words spoken in haste;

wrinkled leaves matted into the trail;

good intentions blemished by the veil of misunderstanding;

the bluest sky which stretches beyond my grasp.