Leaf Art

Hanging On

I watched little leaves, 
Drifting in the wind.
Spinning, twirling, floating.
Landing ever so softly,
On the ground beneath my feet.

On the branch above,
One was still hanging on.
Quivering in the breeze.

And I wondered…
Was it shaking from fear,
Afraid to let go?
Or was it fighting to break free,
Hoping to fly?

And I wondered…
If that were me,
What would I do?
Would I play it safe,
And hang on to what I know?
Or would I take a risk,
And fight to break free?

Their journey,
However beautiful,
Was too brief. 
A landing was imminent,
Leading to death and decay.
And never again,
Could they return to the tree.

Then a gust swept through.
And the leaves took flight again,
Spinning, twirling, floating,
Drifting up to the sky.

And then I knew…
Which I would choose.


So this is what happens when you have quarantine time on your hands and you use that time to go for a walk. Ha! I really DID watch a couple of leaves drift in the wind, and I thought about those leaves (and this poem) for the remainder of my walk. The image is not from my walk, but it IS mine; made today…especially for this poem.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
—Janet


Walk Stats: 3.39 Miles / 1 Hour, 11 Minutes / 7,923 Steps

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