From Time to Time

29 October 2023

Philosophers are the leaves of the family tree,
not seeking to start new branches, absorbing sunlight
to nourish the rest of the tree. It begs the question
whether life is, as they suspect, a torture chamber
with no reward for participation, or whether the sun,
in fact, demands to see a show. I wouldn't know,
although the view among the trees is charming
this time of the year, as all the leaves are changing,
turning yellow, red, and brown, in preparation for
the dying of the sun. When day is done, and when
the summer fully fails, the leaves remain a blanket
on the ground, which at least fertilizes
all the coming trees. But more importantly,
the leaves sustained the tree through one more season
of the carnage of the air, always aware
that their own purpose lay in growing future trees
through self-demise, and not in nursing these
that happen to be present, rather yearning,
rather reaching for that sunlight, which replenishes the earth
from time to time.