You drop, faded parchment,
the tale of the year retold in your script
Dry rustle, nutrient rich,
next year’s growth relying on your Fall.
Eternal story, cycles onward,
green becomes brown, yellow, red.
Colours abound, nature’s spectrum,
your descendants await the Spring;
Tightly packed, awaiting warmth,
hard now but buds wait to softly unfurl.
You sleep, resting through.
This the time for evergreen cousin, holly and ivy.
You dream, so slowly,
digesting the year, tickled by squirrel, woodpecker, owl’s talons.
We watch, through frost,
checking for the signs of return, signs of growth.
And finally, they arrive,
pushing through chill blanket of Winter, bringing green, rebirth,
Hush descends, listen closely,
you can almost hear the leaves sigh once more.