From where I stand
Like a single hair, it’s one among ten thousand.
What’s so special about that leaf, you ask.
It looks like all the others.
But everything has its own story.
Because of its placement in the world
It saw the morning sun
From a slightly different angle.
Because of its position on the branch
The wind tested its strength
More than the others.
Because it was painted with its own brushstroke,
Its worldview was uniquely colored.
On the way down, the leaf told me its life story,
ecstatic that someone was listening.