It is not the way of leaves
to care about how they fall.
It doesn’t matter
whether there are heavy, thunder-filled
clouds overhead
or miles of bright blue and sunshine.
A leaf doesn’t
cry out in pain if a harsh wind
tugs it from its twig
nor does it giggle with mischief if it
manages to break free on its own.
A leaf doesn’t
fret over which is better—
to swoop down in a wild, swirling canopy,
a rustling riot of yellow magic with hundreds of others, or to flutter demurely to the ground
in a quiet, private moment.
No leaf even considers holding on,
resisting its destiny,
its part in the inevitable pattern.
For the leaf, simply letting go
is the thing.
-from Old Stones Understand, (c) 2021, Shanti Arts Publishing
Stacey Murphy __ Poems 