Little Leaf On My Floor

Little leaf on my floor, from whence did you come? From the upper boughs, or lower tombs? From whence did they exhume from low gales trembling, your little monumental life? Much is yours as is mine, little life you are, threshing in the wind.... I am big, you are small (though monumental in my eyes) I do hope you came from the upper boughs, from whence there be many a friend to shield thee from the wind... little leaf on my floor ((MONUMENT)( to a little leaf)) The branches snap.... in the rain and snow, the breath of days far gone has teased the tense, creaking boughs shifting back and forth to and fro; The weary grasp, the life thus clung ---- time for worn-weathered days now, the bones knock (and stems bend) time and again, to flutter in the wind fain... loyal to life to bitter end; Until the snap and crash comes, (and the end of days) never immortal, like the wind.... Keith Hunt (c) 2013