Why is that you seem to only think of me in terms of seasons?
You are grateful when I appear as buds on the trees,
and you can’t wait to see what fall colors my age bestows onto thee.
You complain when it’s time to rake me from the dormant earth,
and you completely forsake me in the time of my journey to rebirth.
But I am so much more. I strive to show the world I am so much more than just your clue to the change of the seasons.
Do you not notice my delicate ballet in the breeze, high atop that distant branch on the tree?
Or the way I am frozen in the water, the puddle, when you try to step over me?
Or how about that bird’s nest that rests in the “y” of the trunk and a limb?
Or what about the way you use me to kindle your flame with a little bit of wind?
But I am so much more, I promise I am. I strive to show the world I am so much more than just your clue to the change of the seasons.
Why do you bag me up and tie me off from my world?
Why do you fill the landfills with me stuffed in plastic bags?
Why can’t you see that I have a function, a function in this world after my “death”?
And it is to promote life, to feed the soil, to promote life, to become the soil, to promote life, to sustain the soil, and to promote life.
But I am so much more, I am, I promise I am. I strive to show the world I am so much more than just your clue to the change of the seasons.
I wish you would truly observe my presence in this world. And then you would know that I am so much more than just your clue to the change of the seasons.