Falling, a poem by Dan Keating
On a day bright with sun and no breeze
A small oak tree gives up.
Its leaves gently falling through the stillness
come to rest upon the ground.
There is no effort here, no hanging on
to that which has served its purpose, yet
no pushing away.
That which falls away simply, and magnificently,
simply falls away.
To eventually stand completely unclothed, bare and
naked, exposed and vulnerable.
There is no breeze and the leaves are falling.