m1nute

Last year’s oak leaf lies facedown in a pool of water.

Spring shoots grow up around it, like pedestrians casually avoiding

a homeless person begging on the street. The leaf is right there

in front of them but the shoots have things to do, places to go;

even when the leaf finally breaks down and they feed off its remnant nutrients.

 But there is no judgement here. The leaf isn’t any the less for dying and

the shoots aren’t any the less for living.