The Hope of a Fall

When the leave flails down riding his gust
Does he know how long it takes to adjust?
Did he know it when he jumped off his twig?
Is he aware as he dances his jig?

Was he that desperate for change
to look down at a jump way out of his range
and decide to put his existence in peril
without even knowing if there's a place he could settle?

Did he look back at his branch; now bare of its dress
it's dull, even sad. Could he care less?
Is he so blinded by courage and hope
that he leaves home so happy, does he know if he'll cope?

I don't think he's yet learned what his branch can teach
I don't think he wants to hear his branch preach
that branch looking down might yet shed some tears
when it sees all the hardship his little leave bears

First he'll dry, then he'll crumble then get lost in the breeze
It'll get cold. That wind will soon whistle and wheeze
but it'll get warm, a time for joy and mirth
because the crumbs of that leave will lead to rebirth

Who knows what can grow when that leave will get going
how much will sprout when that seed gets sowing?
Even if watching him now, might makes us cry
but we swallow our tears and keep our hopes high

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