Are we leaf or tree,
pushing buds out
of branches slowly,
counting rings for wisdom clout?
What are we, what can we be?
Our feet gripping, never free.
The axe will come
or let us be.
Are we leaf or tree
bursting open
renewing, changing, free?
Each season, turning fresh again
What are we, what can we be?
a new leaf with memory
of now and next,
the wind will see.