There's great history
In the mystery
Of the leaf.
Growing green from tiny sprig
Growing glossy on the twig
Sucking in the summer sun
Until the season starts to run
To colder and less brightful days.
The leaf turns red and slowly sways
To drop upon the chilling ground
Where Autumn cooks it nicely browned.
I see the leaf and give a sigh;
I've seen it grow - I've seen it die.
And though we vary in belief
There's yet great mystery
In the history
Of the leaf.