Look at Her

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There is always
somewhere to land.
Look at the red leaf,
effusing life even
fallen from the tree,
marking the passage
of the seasons
in a siren call of
lush vibrant red.
She doesn’t ask for a
better, softer ground.
She doesn’t wonder
why she is not in
the forest that is her
essence and birthright.
Look how stately,
how firm, as last life
ebbs from her veins,
how she becomes
the ground herself,
for another, smaller,
leaf which has flailed,
lighter, more fragile,
in the wind, despite
how green she is,
a story cut
from its source,
a babe far from
her mother’s milk.
May we always
cushion each other
and help provide
precious ground. – TS
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