A mournful mist anoints the silent trees
A leafless limb grows crystal orbs below
A musty mother pulls them toward her womb

They tremble at the coming of the breeze
They fear the fall to what they do not know
They see the earth absorbing like a tomb

At last their weight overcomes their will
The tearing loose, the terrifying thrill
The bursting open on the forest floor
The ecstasy: One is no one no more.

Cliff Perkins
November 6, 2015