They are called leaves
because they do.
Shading through green
then changing hue.
Urged by light
or a chill in the bone,
they let go,
leave home.
For brief moments
sail in the air
without hope,
without care.
Driven by the wind
they seem dead,
aspen yellow,
maple red.
They seem dead
and decay.
The soil reclaims them
to live next May.
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