This Leaf Poem by Jean Mallette

This leaf-this simple sweep of green
Whose structure's like a golden web
That catches all of Life between
These tiny streams that flow and ebb
Across its speckled face. How small-
How small and minor would it seem
When clasped upon those limbs that sprawl
Like mighty arms that stretch to screen
The Earth's reclining brow. Amassed
With many other sweeps of green,
It clung to Life 'til Time drew past
And saw too soon this leaf should wean
Itself from off the bough that held
It fastened to one vein. Then down
This little leaf was gently felled
And laid to rest upon the brown
And rugged face that lines the Earth.
And now to view this withered form-
This lifeless frame that knows no worth-
I see the ruins of the storm
That passed it many times before
At last it had been shorn. I see
The consequence of wind and rain it bore
So staunchly to the end, to be
But living-clinging fast to Life;
To hold its weight upon a stem
So fragile, yet so void of strife
That only age could dam the limb
And cause the tender suckling then
To drop. I see the staggard course
Of pestilence writ across its skin-
Those winding scars made by the force
Of other creatures' will to live;
And last I see beneath this shield
Of green the life that now shall thrive
Upon its fertile cells, concealed.
This leaf-this simple sweep of green;
How like the world one leaf can seem.
How to the watchful eye is seen
The many magic things that stream
From vein to stem; from land to sea;
From every corner of its span.
Yet how much more this leaf can be,
For 'tis the likeness unto man
That's seen most vividly within
The clinging mass, the striving one-
The small, unnoticed citizen
Of Life and Death both fixed upon
One tree; one world; one changeless place
That watches silently the change
That Time inflicts upon each face.
This simple sweep of green, how strange
To feel its death within my hand;
So to the air I cast it forth
To fall again upon the sand
To yield itself to fertile worth.