Have you ever seen a yellowing leaf clutching to a tree branch?

Listened so carefully you could hear it screaming?

The tree is rotting from its roots, but it still grows,

It still clings to its leaves.

It stands strong and refuses to go quietly.

How would you feel?

If all you knew was turning into mulch,

Feeding the scavengers in the muck?

You can feel them creeping and crawling, scratching, and scraping.

Eating out your insides one bite at a time.

They’re doing their best to break the body down,

But what they want, what they hunger for is the spirit within.

The forbidden food they have feasted on for generations.

The little leaves feel sick and one by one they succumb.

Some fly away when the wind picks up,

Some dry up in the scorching sun,

And some are consumed by those snapping their pincers and jaws below.

When a tree is sick most of its leaves fall too soon,

They transition before their time.

A connection is severed, and both are left cold from either side’s departure.

Rotten roots, twisting trunks, bending branches, lifeless leaves.

The wind is picking up,

The sun is boring down and the bush has gone quiet.

The tree stands strong but can’t hold on and she falls with a sickening thud.

Those waiting for their feast move in quickly and silent as death.

And death does come.

Every strip of bark,

Every ring of time,

And every leaf that couldn’t fight back is annihilated.

Annihilation, decimation, extermination. Genocide.

Where will you be when it’s too late?

To save a tree and all its leaves.