Reciprocity

Trees drop their leaves

Like a body ridding itself

Of some terrible, beautiful disease.

I envy them both

This brief and wild dance

Of a summer's pace --

That lapses into

Fall's fiery parting.

When the leaves rattle and shake

Their rage rendered visible

In explosions of color. Their

Desire to remain attached

Is palpable. They seem

Unwilling, as yet, to "move on" --

To depart from beloved trees.

Jealous, as they are,  to

Share those same branches

With winter's embrace;  who

Would weigh them down,

Clinging, lounging, coating

The stiffened limbs.

Claiming every inch of

The scarred, crooked boughs.

Because leaves have worked

Tirelessly in their golden season

To nurture these bark-covered beings,

And learn to speak the soft,

Lovely language embodied in

The wisdom of reciprocity.

It is not in the leaving

That we should be

Brought to shed tears,

But the aftermath of

Desolation, the stillness --

The arrival of that

Deep, quiet, lonely season

Which initiates our fears.