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  • William Hunton


A crushed leaf

It was almost gone, crushed into the bricks underfoot.

High above mundane pursuits, it once observed the dark path below. It danced in gentle breeze, or dizzily thrashed about when a storm passed through. It held fast.

Sunlight and rain pressed through its veins generously feeding the tree below. It lived a life of purpose.

Seasons caught up with it, and one day it just let go. It floated down, dancing side to side, embraced and carried by the arms of the wind whose advances it once resisted.

It came to rest, not to rest, but instead to be ignored.

Inconvenient? No. You did not have to walk around it or over it. No need to wait politely for it to move out of the way. It was not in the way. In fact, it was no trouble at all. It was of no consequence.


Not quite invisible, it’s shadow of form is clearly seen, and it glows against the dark pavement. There must be hope against the gravity of time and friction.

You can still make out the veins! Something else appears in its flesh, the coarse pattern of stones from below. Contrary.

Just step on it. Crush it. Don’t break your stride. Move on. How long until there’s no memory of it? Why are you even thinking about it?

Each careless step grinds hard reality into the flesh. Soon it will disappear, saved from oblivion because someone stopped to notice.

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