(look closely at the tree trunk. Do you see it? There is a hole with a leaf in it)
A thousand leaves near, beyond, ten thousand more,
yet fallenness cannot dismiss the leaf in the tree hole.
It is intact, stemmed, with color ordained,
free from the vanishing, till time makes it fade.
It witnesses to me, this leaf in the hole,
esconsed outside the kitchen, by the bay window.
Leaf in the tree and I grafted-in,
both it and I as if cleft of rock-hidden.
This leaf and I alight with this Autumn’s cycle.
The promise of Spring stares each side of the crystal,
the hope of newness in glorious form,
of new rooms near tree leaves which heal evermore.
Edited by Ragamuffin_John