Setting Seed
These, my mother’s leaves,
shivered from her crown
fall fragile, skeletal,
into the unknown,
Still to her quickly moulting limbs
I cling – her child.
Yet my sibling seeds
soon lose their grip,
and in a sporadic cascade
disappear from sight,
inspiring in my germ the thought:
I am not long from my descent.
Night draws her veil
in a susurrus of sleeping breath,
rattling the boughs
until detached, I fall
from the edge of the world,
the only world I know.
Mother, I had thought you lost,
but you’d been waiting all along
to catch me
amongst your withered leaves,
and prepare me for the day
when I would begin anew.
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