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Wednesday, November 20, 2002


Leaf, leaf, oh dying leaf, the bain of my existence,
Morte from majectic tree with unending persistence,
And there I stand with rake in hand sans leaf-blower assistance,
And against my will the leaves doth shrill and fall with no resistance.

Start of leaf life a simple bud on solid tree so high,
Birthed forth from branches, life advances where only birds dare fly.
So tiny is the little leaf invisible to human eye,
'Til bud breaks open and sheds a token to the world our new leaf spies.

From tiny bud, sprouting forth, green fragile tiny tower,
Unfurling wings as spring birds sing, the leaf begins to flower,
And with the aid of sweet spring rain, water from April showers,
The leaf grows more, and yet still more, stronger by the hours.

Soon in full bloom under sun and moon, the leaf wonders what word,
Defines its stance, "To fly," perchance, "could that be my life's work?"
So once upon first fleeting glimpse of distant cousin bird,
The leaf's unspoken dream to fly will wither away unheard.

'Cause not unlike a teenage child with parent overprotective,
The life the leaf, had viewed was skewed, and now has been corrected.
Leaf legs are fixed to branch and twig, their dreams have been neglected,
Far greater plan: to help the land, and make the tree effective.

From dawn to night through morning light, leaf life a steady beat,
Natures machine, so lean and clean, offers the tree a treat,
Feed chlorophyll and oxygen through fragile small leaf feet,
Oh selfless bud, such noble cause, that mighty tree may eat!

Days pass and seasons change, summer comes from spring,
Days grow longer, sun grows stronger, more leaves are gathering,
Up high on branches, empty stances, leaf purpose defining,
Leaf life unsatisfactory, oxygen factory, carbon dioxide cleaning.

Now humans run from hot summer sun to leaves providing shade,
And humans think their lives doth stink whilst foliage has it made,
But unaware of plights done beared by leaf and tree unsaved,
Pollution takes a costly toll sending forested life to grave.

For growing forest canopy must filter acid rain,
And gone unheard, not a single word, from leaves that windstorms claim,
And not asking, nor receiving, for their work, some earn-ed fame,
When someone pulls a leaf off tree, does that leaf not feel pain?

Herbivores and bugs galore commence the forest fleece,
Chow down on leaves' tender skin, what a healthy tasty treat.
And gypsy moths and ants and moss kill off so many leaves,
But leaves can't cry when their friends die, will they ever know of peace?

Days pass and seasons change, autumn comes to be,
Days grow sleaker, sun grows weaker, begin the tragedy,
Leaves lose their color, gaining others, while onlookers strain to see,
Leaf-peepers ogle, and people marvel, fall's glorious symphony.

And day by day, the leaves doth pray, that branches' grasp may weaken,
Soon they'll fly, like birds on high, realize their dreams forsaken.
Their role now done, leaves' time for fun, let no one be mistaken,
The leaves will soar, like Bobby Orr, on goal that Stanley Cup taken!

Break forth ye leaf, spread wings fly free, without the understanding,
To fly is hard and leaves not smart, their fate soon now is ending.
And at the foot of withered tree, half-naked but still standing,
Dead brown leaf can fly no more, and sputters down crash-landing.

Unmercilessly killing off my lawn and flower garden,
Run Away! No one is safe from leaves' endless dive-bombing!
Now left for dead, and no word said, leaf carcass now is rotting,
Left to the wind, blown round again to piles of leaf embalming.

And so I rake, while I'm awake, all day and through the night,
Unaware, and do not care, of leaves' long 'waited plight.
Kiss my ass! Leaves've turned my grass into a scary fright,
I cannot cease, for I'll have no peace, 'til the leaves are out of sight.

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