Winter Leaves
by Odin Roark

Seemingly adrift
Without care
Emblematic of interim homelessness

Yet

They rest unraked
Awaiting the next frost
The next thaw
The cyclic disintegration
The sequence they know so well

Still

We
The conscious ones
See not the wisdom of their seasonal trial
That arctic-like mission
Taking them to where they need to be

Come spring

The mulch of the winter
Delivers the gift
The nutrients for realizing
Spring’s glory
The cycle’s inevitable reconnect

Some might see it like love

Except nature knows
Without the up down
Bloom /wilting
Life/ death
There is no continuum
Blossoming

Lest we forget
The same tree
Bush
Vine
Doesn’t pack it in
Just because
Temperatures go seasonally cold

When will we learn
The heart
The mind
The being
Like all of nature
Is meant to be susceptible?

And

Like our favorite flower
We too
Are vulnerable

The difference is
The plant knows
Cycles are not only innocent
They are like the nature of everything
Knowing reality loathes tampering

And perhaps
The reason leaves naturally go on
Nurture the next generation
Without agenda
Is they’re gifted over us
They don’t have sentience
To mess them up