Leaves Let Go
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.
—Stacey Murphy, Old Stones Understand
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