Confetti Toss

The other evening I went for a walk in the wind. Up the hill, the wild air had carried the flowers and loose petals of tulip trees to the ground. Like a pinata-spill, like a confetti-toss, the festive green and orange blossoms were strewn in the road, on the grass, and among the fallen leaves. Some detached petals looked like psychedelic moth wings. I stared up through the glossy foliage to the still-attached flowers, swaying and trembling in the late light. The wind played a hissing, whispered music to watch by.

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