Paper gliders

Paper gliders May 28th 12.00pm
Like in autumn-automatic the leaves disconnect from their branches.
Like as if remote-controlled, these paper gliders with eagles wings are falling.
Their initial velocity points them downwards and then they bottom out and soar.
The earth beyond my window looks like a classroom floor, where trunks are the legs of chairs and beneath them the remnants of childhood paper planes remain, all childhood attempts at origami, their paper birds lie scattered.
This window is a cinema screen and the trees hide their secret paper messages, everywhere they are falling - in a brief moment of time they flicker and glide, some perform their art better than others, dazzling in their brilliance that inspired birds to grow feathers.
God is moving there, in the wind that moves the branches and in the wind that enchants the air.
These leaves or solar sails careering, paper planes with messages in their wings.
Coloured leaves carrying memories of summer now bowing before the winter gale, carrying their messages of the coming spring.
If I stood outside I would hear them singing now nourished with my belief inside that I can hear them sing.