Selfish
They are replaced each year without fail.
By the time the third
Quarter rolls
Around they start to fall and let go
From all they have ever known.
They fall from high mighty branches that loom over us.
A physical hierarchy.
Selflessly providing us what we need to survive, our necessity before they fall.
Under us
under our feet.
Stepped on,
Crumpled,
Disarrayed,
Disregarded,
Piling up on the side of the road,
In a gutter.
And then they disappear.
New, fresh leaves grow on naked branches,
The past was replaced as a present.
The new season begins giving us what we were Missing the most
And thus, the cycle then repeats
Each year and each day replacing the other.
Until the world stops.
Enflamed.
That is our only payment.
It’s in our nature.
