Leaves From a Tree

A Poem

Leaves from a tree don’t just appear They are birthed by nature and held by branch until it’s their time to fall

Stoic demeanor as if just to watch, a passenger in a forest bathed with light and supported by limb

Leaves from a tree growing at their own speed not trying to keep up or fall behind just a sense of contentment

Not fast nor slow Not big nor little No descriptors necessary for these leaves on a tree because they just are

What if we thought only of ourselves, but of us, as a leaf on a tree? How much easier would life really be?

This poem was inspired by a passage in the novel, The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are by Alan W. Watts. I find myself highlighting words or passages that move me every time I read, no matter what I am reading. When I find the highlight that projects to a poem, I don’t read the source again before I write, I just allow the nerve to be touched. And then I spill my words.

A snippet from pages 8–9 of The Book, where I got my inspiration:

This feeling of being lonely and very temporary visitors in the universe is in flat contradiction to everything known about man (and all other living organisms) in the sciences. We do not “come into” this world; we come out of it, as leaves from a tree.

© Jonathan Greene 2020

If you liked this, you might like this as well:

*The link for the novel is an affiliate link to Bookshop. Supporting local bookstores.