As Leaves Go
It begins, an annual dance.
A ritual older than conceivable time.
I have no choice in the part that I play.
My role decided before the first speck of green whispered into existence from the earth of which I sprouted.
I was born at the cusp of light, in mist, in the breath of dawn.
I was bathed with rain,
Nurtured in the warmth of the sun,
Protected with shade and
Blossoming in the light of the moon.
I’ve been secret refuge for numerous, nameless, invisible, fragile souls.
I’ve witnessed life hatch,
miracles become reality as birds stretch their wings and take first flight.
I’ve also seen the tragedy and heartache of those who’s wings couldn’t carry the weight of this world and they were born only to die.
I’ve been a harbor for these weary, wing-ed creators.
The ones who’s burden it is to keep us alive.
And I’ve climbed the wind and reached the sky.
And now, as the last warmth of summer is swept away and the chill begins to last beyond dawn,
Season demands sacrifice and branches begin to sway.
So, as I begin to dry, my color rusting, a shiver makes me take up that ancient dance.
And as infinite others have done for eons of eternity,
I must let go of this borrowed perch that was never, ever mine,
As leaves go.
