Leaves Let Go

One of my running places, upstate
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

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