A mile or a meter

It’s all the same to a leaf

That has been lifted

And carried from mother branch

To the world away from embrace

It spells the end of warmth

The finish of being connected

And the journey toward winter

With its blanketing darkness

Beneath that deep sheet of white

To become a small nourishment

For some possibility of life

Waiting in the wings

That it might come forth

And repeat the cycle.