If Mother gave trees knees, would they run? For fun? And when they're done, would they Speak of what they had begun? Would they say that they laid waste, to their course’s concrete face? Would there be leaves, broken branches, and spent bark left behind, left rumbling in the dark?  Would all that spent organic waste become a disgrace? Or would it embrace, too, life like the kneed trees, to run across the course’s concrete face?  No, do not tear yourselves to tatters, little leaves.  No, you are not litter.  Your parents merely lost track of you as they ran along. Keep moving after them, tumbling forward in their wake. Stop not upon the concrete face where their foots have ceased to run.