#gentletones

Quiet fields, slow summer air

Ploegsteert (BE)

They rose to the very top,

All green and perky,

To receive warmth and

To share the joy of life.

  Rainy days are gloomy.

Heavy droplets splatter into the shivering leaves.

They worry.

The roots down below have been calling,

Asking,

We sent you water, where is our food?

  Sunny days are cheery.

They put their hands up and out,

And stretch.

They take in everything.

The roots send little water,

They use it cautiously.

The older ones yellow,

Scrunch themselves up.

They hug their knees and pray,

Saying,

Let the young ones grow.

  But sometimes,

When they aren’t too careful,

And take too little for themselves,

They get too weak.

An occasional gust

Can hurl them away.

  The remaining ones,

Holding on,

Call after them,

And chatter nervously.

But as they descend,

They dance.

  Those that leave take comfort

In that they will

Soon

Be part of the earth.

Their work is done,

Now they must only wait.

  The roots apologize profusely,

In a myriad of voices that could not have reached the leaves before.

It is alright, they answer

As they lay

Dying.

We are only leaves.

A part of the whole.

We have seen many faces of the sky,