Leaves Falling for the Fawn to Graze

Leaves were falling 
from the great oak 
at the meadows edge, 
falling from all the trees
this cold cold night.

So many have fallen off,
so many were torn off,
that the new buds to come 
were but a memory 
of a sun that once shone
and gave them warmth,
warmth they needed again.

They’ve fallen down 
unaware of the secret
blooms yet to come,
bringing more and more
green leaves beyond 
their power to know.

They sank down 
and fell silent
on the winter grass,
each nestled in 
each other’s curves, 
silent in last embrace,
sad to know their final light,
sad to know not again
the trees hidden greening.

They crumbled in the wind
and did not hear the oak
whisper how beautiful 
it  was, wonderful when
once the sun came out
and shone so warmly 
that they all burst with life.

They felt not the kiss
of morning dew,
knowing only the 
once mild and splendid
nights before they 
grew yellow and ugly. 

The wind blew the leaves 
away as the oak uttered 
its final blessing:

“You’ve been so kind.
You’ve always been 
so kind to me.  
I’m just beginning 
to understand how 
kind you’ve been.”