There is a Book that divides the men from the boys.
The boys try to destroy It,
or deny It,
or dilute It.
The men love It – It is their meat & drink.
- eab, 7/3/14
- eab, 9/14/11
- eab, 9/29/08
– eab, 3/28/09
Time was when Mr. Leaf was attached,
Tied comfortably to his own home Tree.
He was close to his fellow brethren,
Greenish, growing in Tree liberty.
He had his function in the Body,
Helped the Tree (though he was slightly curled)
Gave the Tree his loving, living best,
Growing, glowing there above the world.
Then air took a little colder nudge,
“Autumn” as the human’s call it, fell.
Mr. Leaf got a tinge of color,
He did not seem to feel quite as well.
More cold came into his leafy world,
And a fall rain or two came his way.
The Leaf noticed he seemed less attached,
He began to enjoy his new sway.
A critical moment came to him;
He found himself loose from his home Tree.
From the Body he severed his ties.
Mr. Leaf was, at last, “really free.”
Oh, what a sinsation  this all was,
He found himself flying through the air
He could turn right, or he could turn left,
So different from when he was “up there.”
He actually got to see the world.
He saw things he had not seen before.
The Tree had limited his past life,
The world had variety in store.
As he moved away from his old Tree,
Mr. Leaf liked his new-fangled ride.
He even was lifted up so high,
Gladly he was proud, of his new pride.
How nice it was to slip through the air,
Giddy, to be caught up in the swirl,
He enjoyed mixing with other Leaves;
Raved in the charm of a sleek Leaf girl.
He did notice in honest moments,
He was closer to dirt than before.
But he swirled, swirled, forgetting that thought,
What fun it was to once freely soar.
Excitedly the world came closer;
He knew not how dangerous it was.
Dirt, from distance, had earthy appeal,
Up close he saw bling, it lacked the buz.
Swooping, slopping ever downward now,
Mr. Leaf landed in his descent.
The world was hard. He’d expected more,
Its hardness hurt, his old surface rent.
Was this stuff rock? Was this thing real mud?
After fun was he stuck to the ground?
Where was the freedom he thought he had?
Where was the “free life” he had just found?
His Body, his faithful old Tree stood,
It hadn’t moved; he’s the one who fled.
The Body (his lost Tree) was alive.
Mr. Leaf, with his “freedom” was dead.
- eab, 9/28/09
 Purposefully “spelled” this way.