Sometimes I feel like autumn leaves, tumbling aimlessly through the sky. 

I yearn for the safety of the branch.

The water that permeates the thick trunk and kept me alive. 

The branches also miss the leaves,

But both leaf and tree need to realize

That the time will come, 

It will come inevitably

It will come relentlessly

It will come eternally

Then the little leaf will be pulled from its mothering branch 

And carried away in the wind. 

There it will follow the writing of the birds 

Their manifesto of Freedom

But even the wind isn’t unending

And autumn isn’t unending

So, the leaves will fall to the ground

And their landing will make them part

of something New

of something Great

In spring I will return to the branch

With a tale of the sky’s labyrinth

And the rustling promise of a new journey.