Sacred roots held to the sowing moment
Opulent, the trees tell stories of quiet mists,
Droughts, whereabouts of so many hearts
It keeps the memory of baby birdies
The resting place of butterflies
The little boy whom will live forever shrouded by glimpses of
his own childhood
A grandmother sweeping leaves with a straw broom, a broom
made of dead leaves
Leaves that once transcended the green photosynthesis
from the rainbow hidden in the white light
light from a distant sun
The leaves of yucca chopped into bowls of soup to be served
to the plastic dolls
Play Indians with headpieces made out of coconut leaves
Winged by children’s dreams
Scorched leaves crackling in the fire, charred
discarded leaves fading into ashes
leaves at the dinner table
exotic flavored leaves
Tender leaves, dry leaves,
Poisonous leaves covering the sex at the first awakeners of
science
The boy lifts it to the sunlight outside
Trying to read his destiny written on the green veins
and drink water from it in pure fountains
while a shaman squeezes the heeling juices into bows full of
hope
Leaves flying in the wind
Whirling dancers ate the moment’s pulse
Describing arabesques, lines, hieroglyphs
Crackling silent from the twigs crying their loss
Leaves laying on soft ground
Buried, expecting the metamorphosis of time
To transform them in sap to new leaves to come
