Lying here upon the forest floor
In multi-colored solitude,
I am but one among many.
Each unique, layer upon layer;
Resplendent now
In Reds and Yellows and Gold.
The intertwined branches high above
Now Barren and Brown,
Trace a pattern against the sky.
They remind us of our past,
And the departing season
Giving way for the next.
As it is with the sky-flyers,
Who, on outstretched feathered arms,
Ride the rising currents;
We too have known the cooling rain,
And felt the gentle warmth of sun
As we danced upon the wind-songs.
After a lifetime in the sky
Brushing against the heavens
It is our time to depart.
As we fed our benefactors in life,
So shall we also feed them in death;
Our essence returned to earth.
For most, we exist as nothing
More than reminders
Of another passing season.
For them, our departure from that precarious hold
among the wooden matrix
Marks a loss of significance.
Yet there are those
Who can see beyond our fading color,
And understand.
In sensing the progression
Of new life from the pre-existing
They share our elemental knowledge.
They know that even now we serve;
Home to the many-legged who feed upon us,
Then bury their next generation beneath,
While others make their beds
And line their winter dens
With the remnants of our existence.
So now we have come full circle.
From earth to sky and back again,
As we have from our first inception.
Thus we are fulfilled;
Our purpose complete;
Lying here upon the forest floor