Like verdant bumble bees hugging the trees,
A hive’s worth of leaves are abuzz on the breeze.
Saluting, inviting and bidding farewell,
They whisper a gentle, restorative spell.
Never intruding nor forcing their will,
They beckon us linger, they bid us be still,
For only in silence, will we hear them speak –
The trees know the leaves hold the solace we seek.
They live for a time and, when that time is done,
The breeze calls them home again, each one by one.
No need to be sorrowful, no need to mourn;
As fresh leaves appear, our souls too are reborn.
26 December 2019