Questions Poem by Hannah Crane

Sad tree, why are you still holding on?
The cold has come in, the bees have gone.
Gone is the time of colors and green.
Gone are the feelings of being a queen.
Backpacks are packed full of pens and papers.
The sun’s golden light in the town tapers.
The cold winter wind calls you onward
To a land void of the sound of the bird.

But still, tall tree, your grasp is so tight.
The rest of your leaves have taken their flight.
I see that golden one far at the top.
What’s so special, why won’t he drop?
Was he there, watching you grow?
Did he comfort you, when you felt low?
Do you care for him, more than the rest?
Was he your first, was he the best?

I will never know the ways of the wind.
Or for how long that leaf will stay pinned.
I can only wonder until I know.
Or ‘til it drops in the weight of the snow.