The Tree Of Life Poem by James Walter Orr

I am but a leaf on the tree of life,
And I shake in the wind that passes by,
While the doe that plays in the autumn grass
Stirs the forms of others whom once hung high.

I hang near alone on the highest branch.
My friends have departed and gone away.
I see them below in their autumn clothes.
They crackle and laugh where the breezes play.

My body has lost its green, supple strength,
But I hang to my branch through force of will.
The birds that once heard all my whispered song
Have fled the approach of the winter’s chill.

The wind from the north has begun to howl,
And the branch where I hang now groans and shakes.
My grip slowly weakens and cannot hold,
And caught in the grip of a gust, it breaks.

I whirl and I dance in the chilly air,
And land in a thicket and then I know,
The feeling of utmost peace, love and joy,
For I warm the bed of the playful doe.

The earth draws great circles around the sun,
And the sun shines down upon each season.
In the coldest season, the sun will warm;
I warm my love and I need no reason.