Over and Around

From my perch all seems pretty good.

It’s peaceful. The sun is warm, and the view from over the valley gives me a god-like perspective. Looking over the river below, I watch the coming and going of creatures, 4-legged or feathered, dipping into the moving waters, for a drink or a bath.

Of course on the stormy days my place on the edge of this maple gets intense, and feels out of control. But my stem is strong, fused tightly to the twig, bending from the branch of one of my trees strongest bough’s.

I get scared, but my tree keeps me secure.

Never letting me go.

I’ve seen a few leaves fly off in the storm, which at first terrified me. If they can be torn from the tree so violently, certainly, so can I.

But I know my bond is true. And I’ve worked hard at keeping it that way. Reaching way out into the sun, to be sure to bring my tree the best nutrients. My natural photosynthesis is some of the best in this upper west side neighborhood of leafs. I’ll always be good at this.

I’m never letting go.

Plus, we don’t get squirrels, this high up and this high out. I see them down there, chittering about, scattered and unpredictable. They rip at leaves and build nests with their corpses.

The birds are okay. They flutter in and out, and really only seem to have interest in the coverage, the bugs, or the bark and sticks.

But I am changing.

My green is fading to a bright splotchy yellow. Seeing others around me going evolving similarly assures me it’s just the natural way of things.

The winds have been getting cooler too, between my tree and I, and I don’t feel to as tightly bonded. My stem is thickening.

I am letting go.

I’m brilliant, and vivid orange with confidence. The bark looks dark against my color, contrasting in my shadow. I am my most vibrant against the blue of the sky, and the sun makes me radiate.

I’ve better to do, than give nutrients to the tree. The cooling air has created in me a narcissistic luminosity, and now I am too beautiful, too unique, and I care little for converting sunlight.

I let go.

It am so peaceful, and at first I don’t really know what is going on. I quickly became dizzy with the fear and joy of freedom. Without my bond, I am influence by the tiniest shifting breeze. What once inspired joy now upheaves my perspective.

I find pockets of warm air that hold me for a single comfortable moment before I tumble on, over and around the nothingness I’m pushed. It’s exhilarating but I am completely unhinged. Being pushed and pulled by forces I can’t see, and don’t understand.

My beautiful lengths and points seem to grab onto ideas in the breeze and work against me, further wrenching me this way and that. But if I only… and when I finally can… it doesn’t stop. My hope becomes my pain.

Why had I let go?

I’d seen other leafs do it, their flight a peaceful decent into the next world. A dance in the air I was so jealous of.

But this is not that. This is so much less stable than my time with the tree. I knew where I was and I knew what I was doing. Now I am alone and out of control. The refreshing breeze tickles me with potential and sparks of delight, but I’m too unsettled. I need a foothold, a point of security.

And then I stop. I am on the ground. Perched gently up on the soft grass under my maple, I look up.

I am at peace, finally. Stable. Unmoving.

And I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to do it all again. To look just one more time out over that valley. To feel the warmth of my bond to my tree. My abilities to photosynthesize are gone. I am purposeless. At least I could have tried to enjoy the fall.

But now all I can do is remember.

Never letting go.

Here, securely on the ground, I harden and fade with weather. The world dims around me, and I become dust.