Life's Leaves

Those heralds of spring, their soft, misty green,

Suffuse all the trees, give them life, make them preen,

And all through the garden, the plants take their cue

With colour and scent, all of nature renew.

Then like sands in a glass, time moves quickly along,

With lengthening days and returning birds’ song,

And leaves daily grow till they’re full. And their hue

Becomes richer. And deep as with life, they’re imbued.

They dance in the breeze and they gleam in the rain,

And shine in the sun as o’er nature they reign,

A long, lovely cycle of varying days,

As to man (and all life), they delight and amaze.

Too soon, with the passing of seasons, then they

Succumb. In the shortening days, are arrayed

With colour—rich blazes of orange or red,

Bright praise to life lived (and of slumber ahead).

When I lay on soft grass and look up at the leaves,

And see them give life to the birds and the trees,

I wonder if we’re like the foliage up there,

And its sun and its wind, like life’s joy or despair.

Though their life is shortened (their months are like hours),

Are they not like us with their sunshine and showers?

Don’t we try, by example to succor and lead,

To soak in the sun and to dance in the breeze?

And then, as life’s autumn creeps slowly away,

Are we not filled with colour that brightens the day?

From all our experiences—joys or defeats…

That busied our fingers and hurried our feet?

As a youngster, I laughed through my misty green years,

Then grew richly hued jug’ling kids and careers,

 And now that I’m older, I can happily say,

I’m bright crimson with joy in my sweet autumn days.

Cause Monday’s do get knocked a lot,

With poetry, we all besought

To try to make the week begin

With pleasant thoughts,

Perhaps a grin?

So all of us, together, we

Have crafted poems for you to see.

And now you’ve read what we have wrought…

Did we help?

Or did we not?

Jenny

Charlotte

Mimi

Next week, it's not a lot to ask,
The four of us will speak of 'masks'.