Moonshadows
The moon casts silver shadows across my pebbled way.
Stones echoing the velvet recesses where they lay.
My heart follows no compass as it weaves its random path.
No drone marks its progress or charts its vagrant math.
A clipped leaf dries upon my chest where it has been thrust
and slowly, in the evening wind, turns from green to rust.
For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 772 the prompt words are:
velvet compass echo random rust silver shadow pebble stone drone clip dry
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Very nicely written 👍
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Beautifully done Judy – the striking transformation of the leaf from green to rust creates a beautiful sense of wandering, mortality, and change 🍂
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The imagery you create with this poem is magnificent.
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A beautiful piece Judy
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