A Single Leaf

I'm intrigued by this single leaf which
is sunbathing so peacefully right in front of my shoes.
I'm intrigued by the tenderness she wears
behind her delicate, poignant shape

- Does she get here by the blowing of the wind
that took her for a dying wish,
Or was she rashly picked by reckless hands
not appreciating the beauty of things?

How far did she travel to reach this awkward spot?
Is this the place she has always dreamed of?
Or does she wish she were lying on the cloud up high?

Does she hold behind her imperfect greens
stories about changes and the bridges?
About smokes and poisoned bees?

I think, if I look very closely,
I can see what she has to say about her world
- our world.