‘Perhaps a person will pick me up and crunch me in the palm into plenty of pieces’
The strong leaf I used to be Had watched others weaken and fall, Being trampled on and drying up Or carried away by muddy soles, Even strong leaves fall off eventually
I struggled as my stalk got weaker And the unexpected tearing pain My cries of help me were in vain The timing was wrong but others rejoiced I should have known it was imminent! If only I could glide up and grow back!
Sadly gliding down to the ground A soft wind cooled my soreness My moist will dry up, my color will fade No more suppleness, no more softness My colleagues continued dancing in the sky I lay still, meditating on my evident loss
Fallen further from the sun into the shadow No longer in pain of breaking away but; Wallowing in regret for not being firmer
For everything, there is a season, it has been foretold. When I was young and green, securely clinging to the branches of my family Sugar Maple tree, I thought it was the best I would ever be. But here, now,
Leaves on the trees turning from yellow to brown With a stiff wind soon on the ground Rustling, rustling A pile of leaves so neatly collected Beckoning me so they’re not neglected Rustling, rustling I jump I jump so gleefully