Player 9999 posted a message on 21/10 22:10 on the MadWin Forum: poetry LÉCUREUIL ET LA FEUILLE. Answer him on MadWin and exchange with other players

A squirrel, on the heather, washes himself

with light.


A dead leaf descends,

gently carried by the wind.


And the wind swings the leaf

Just above the squirrel; the


wind waits, to put it, Slightly

on the heather, Let


the squirrel be raised On the

oak of the clearing Where he


likes to swing Like

a leaf of light.


Maurice Carème