The Leaf

Once these were busy thoroughfares
On a green and sunny day
Water rushing up from the roots
Processed food being carted away.

This was an oxygen- processing unit, too,
Till the air itself turned into fog,
And the winter chill settled itself down
To write the leaf’s epilogue.

A delicate tracery of veins still remains
Which will crumble away soon, although
Artists may immortalize it, poets show
How much we humans owe..
To the humble leaf.

One thought on “The Leaf

  1. Great poem! I like the reverence for the details of a leaf–“water rushing up from the roots” “this was an oxygen-processing unit too”–and the way you paint a picture of something that we often take for granted but that has such profound beauty and impact on our lives.

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