Nature Walk - 09/23/10

Death in the vivid life of nature:
leaves on the ground,
apart from the tree,
we call so green and rejuvenating,
really a lack there of.
The ground is blanketed in bodies.

Some are old,
already shrivled
and they crunch
with the same sharp
click
as my pencil breaking.
They are brown,
all their original green drained,
sucked into the soil below,
into the grass,
into the ancient tree roots,
into the baby worms.
They are heavy,
do not rustle gently in the wind,
do not lift from the earth
and dance spiritually
on a passing breeze.

But some are still bleeding.
Freshly fallen leaves of yellow,
with trickling veins of green
still so prominent
on the soft ground.
Young bodies,
bright, beautiful, benevolent.
What shall become of these?
These children of the world?
Falling before their time
or maybe ripped from branches
by beings more childish than they.
These ones flit and flutter,
spin softly and sputter,
spiraling sweetly back to the soil
when the wind ceases.
So light and lofty,
a satisfied sigh,
a lover's lament,
a gracious gust from gods
still so unknown.
Spirited souls of shimmering leaves,
where fly thee?
To the arms of power?
To the lips of love?
Or to the warm dirt?
To a new world
or a new beginning
or just back to
where you came?
Is your energy not conserved
as it transfers
back to the earth?