So rare, this leaf of the fallen,
So fresh, it lay amongst the drab of the ground,
A beauty, vibrant in color,
It awaits the time of compost.
O what of the ground,
That rose to its majestic touch,
As it embraced and cradled its fall.
While the woods stood attention,
Its beauty - a marking,
For weary travellers of time.
In a land where beauty is seen by the weary,
The fallen maple overshadows the glint of the Sun,
It crowns the woods,
As nature's intimate haven,
It crowns the woods,
With the rarity of its beauty.
-shobana-
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