The Shore

Fall

Cold grew the air,

As emerged the November gale.

Colorful grew the trees,

As their leaves turned pale.

‘Twas the time,

From which no life can hide.

When the dying make room,

And the born take stride.

Awaited one lonely leaf, however,

As all of his sisters and brothers fell.

Waiting, watching, wishing for that moment,

When he too would find a new place to dwell.

But his moment didn’t come.

Thin grew his frame, and brown grew his hue.

And his skin could no longer catch the morning dew.

And he waited and waited.

Weak grew the tree and covered became the ground,

With all of his brothers and sisters sitting around.

And he waited and waited.

Warm grew the gales, and blue grew the skies,

And tears built up in this leaf’s eyes.

Ninety-nine winters,

In this manner did pass,

And our leaf began to lose hope.

He asked:

Why am I doomed,

To remain on this tree,

While all the others have bloomed

Wild and free?

As he spoke he felt a tickle.

A quiver at his base,

And a shake just a little.

He held his breath,

And sure enough,

He too fell soaring,

Down into the verdant fluff.

And as he looked up,

To bid me adieu,

I smiled and said,

“Now it’s up to you.”

I met his eyes for one last time,

Before closing mine for good.

And at that moment our little leaf realized,

What a void had appeared, where I now stood.

It’s a strange thing, love,

That quiets all the thoughts that push and shove.

It’s a strange thing, love,

That makes a leaf cry below,

Who was crying because he was above.

The mother needs no time; she needs no place,

Just a thought, and perhaps a silent grace.

Love her strongly, and relish her embrace,

For one day we too will fall,

And she’ll be gone without a trace.

Read about the beautiful tree that was the inspiration for this poem here.