We could say the obvious
about a leaf,
typically flat and thin,
terminologically rich:
an angiosperm
with petiole, lamina
and stipules (lots of these).

But enough for now
because I want to be
poetic about the leaf
and its collective:
leaves.

As the haiku goes
Leaves lose trees
And trees lose leaves
Who can walk without
Dancing on windfalls
As crisp as these.

It is their dance,
their dancing,
(these veined forms),
that bring me
gentle reader,
to the page.
It is the wind’s doing:
rustling and rubbing in
summer airs,
turning and falling
in September’s gales,
path-bound then
leaves leap and glide,
twist and scatter
in the winter winds.
In spring they are like
babes in the womb,
attached, full of life,
hidden in the bud.