A falling leaf
Through Autumn, long Winter and many a violent Spring storm,
always it’s leaves it kept, just now I chanced upon a falling form
as a single leaf it softly wept.
Possessed of delicate poise, a parchment piece from russet trees,
floated without any sound, slowly turning, nudged by a breeze
down towards the ground.
It was the first of it’s kind to let slip from high up where it held,
a moment of discarded worth, yet one that of the future spelled,
a sign of the tree’s rebirth.