THE LEAF I HOLD

I walked out to “taste” the air two days ago.
Oh, it was “Bitin’ Cold!” as Granny would 
Have said.  “The wind will fierce bite your face!”
She was right, of course, and I came soon back
Inside where I was warmed and welcomed.

Not until I had become warm again
Did I notice I now had company:
A fallen leaf; an old leaf from last year
Which had endured winter’s frigid beatings
And lay inside at my feet, bent and still.
I look down seeing one once beautiful
Now become a mere ghost of such a thing,
Thinking, I swear now, how cruel nature is.
Not for what I saw, but what had been done
To the Innocent Leaf there at my feet
Once Wind-Dancer, dawn to dusk, each bright
Whirl a feast. each and every one a feast, a gift!
The almost musical wind, the trees, the leaves
In their never ending, their timeless, dance..

So, I bent close to this one at my feet
Once just one on the thousand trees
Over my head, now alone, brown and dead.
The thousands, gone. The colors, gone.
Just this one here at my feet, cold and still.

And, I wondered. Was this once bright thing dead?
Were they gone, those bright treasures of the green
Dances, day after day all spring and summer long?

I bent and lifted the torn wrinkled leaf 
To my eyes, and saw the face of age,
The signs of wear and work I see on all 
Who like the Dying Leaf have served us well.
And I remembered them, there, as I stood,
The leaf in my hand, and they, all of them
There, with me, inside my house that morning.

And, standing some minutes remembering,
I came to know what I must always keep,
What must be always kept, this of all things
I took to heart, that day of the dead leaf:

No thing; no one, dies; or just fades away.
All that ever was, still is.  And we know where!

Peadar Ban
April 5, 2022