This Weight

Swarming bacteria in a wound,
Locust upon a field of gold,
Fibers criss-cross on a loom,
Or a crawling, rank, infectious mold.

And each drone within this hive,
Blinks in wonder below the moon,
Each one begs to stay alive,
Each finds the end comes far too soon.

Mothered in sod, sweat, blood, and tears,
Fathered of seed of shimmering light,
This bleating throng driven by fears,
Cower and cleave in the dark of night.

Every whelp upon it's mother's breast,
As common as the common cold,
Grows to find there is no rest,
From youthful dreams that grow so old.

Infesting every mount, valley, coast, or isle,
Gaping yaw too ravenous to fill,
Plodding through every last lonely mile,
Seldom slowing, or ever standing still.

Be we angel, demon, beast, or child,
Plain as snow, unique as snowflakes,
Beggars for love, yet living beguiled,
In dust, in love, in birth and death partake,

This weight.

Leaf

Endless sinews tributary microscopic,
A wonder of brambled chlorofyl,
Nursing atmosphere at a view myopic,
Even as a rustling caress leaves you still,
And lovely.

Stemmed in myriads upon a twig,
Of a twig branched to the earth.
To music of spheres you waltz and you jig,
Amid your kin flutter in death and rebirth,
So fragile.

First thaw impatiently bud then burgeon,
Beckoned by sun, rain, wind, and time.
Adorn a world at spring's gentle urging,
Awakened by some deep mystical chime,
Roused.

Pale green matures in deeper hues,
'Til colors resplendent in passionate dying,
And a whisper or breeze severs the fuse,
A final dance macabre and falling,
Deep sleep.

Now rest deep in embryonic curl,
As icicles cocoon your nesting frame.
Until warm spring induces you to unfurl,
And God himself calls you by name,
Reborn.