In spring, petite leaves burst
like bundles of babies, extending
from tight parcels out of the remains
of winter past.
Their flush, flawless, powdered
with a blossom's fresh fragrance.
Small and limber, they rock gently,
pressed against their mother's arms.

Thatched in emerald shade,
summer's leaves are rough and callused.
Their thick stems strong, yet scarred
here and there by the company
of birds and children.
Strength in numbers and size
the riot of leaves hold hands
with their mother and dance
in a swift summer breeze.

Like birds leaving the nest,
fall's leaves flutter and twirl
into the crisp, brittle air.
Waving goodbye to their mother
and gathering at her base
for a last embrace.

In winter, Mother stands alone
resting weary arms and waiting
expectantly
while green buds grow within,
waiting to bring life
into a new spring morning.