IF I WERE A LEAF
If I were a leaf,
I would stir in springtime and work my way through stem,
still curled and tight.
Expectant, I would rest and relish sun so warm
and, in good time, unfold
stretching, relishing the contour of my being
the tiny points
the indentations
the rhythmic veins
And I would meet my neighbors
whispering to them when the wind was soft
smiling when a gentle rain washed dust away
hanging on and shouting when the torrents came
And I would listen to the words of those who sat below me
cleansing the air for them by simple breath.
And I would change
wondering first and then exuberant
from vibrant green to regal red and gold
the oohs, the ahhs, the majesty
I, one of a host turning hillside to tapestry
triumphant, daring, self-fulfilled
and I would laugh and join the welling up of praise.
If I were a leaf,
I’d know it would not last.
Quiescent, I would wait
for dryness and for rustle
for words of wisdom from my neighbors as they waved goodbye
for nudging from the branch that gave me birth
for breeze to lift me off
and dance with me in pirouette as I went down.
Nestled with others I would not dread
the crunch of boot
the dragging of small feet through piles
the piercing of a rake.
My color dimmed, and torn,
I would taste earth,
and be at home.
Betsy Rice, 2009
Betsy is a life member of GPPC. Here is part of a bio we ran when she contributed to the blog a few years ago: Betsy, who’s at church most anytime the door’s unlocked; Betsy, who stands for the congregation with multiple good deeds out in the community; Betsy, who is the object of the question occasionally posed in discussions of committee work and faith journeys: What would Betsy Rice do?