The Graceful Dead

  
The Graceful Dead
 
While walking up a road today, that still was lined with green,
I saw a tree, for which the fall had come, that stood serene.
It soared, aflame, it seemed, against the clouded autumn sky,
In glory, clad in leaves – that one by one would fall and die.
 
And now, I take in hand my pen, recalling, as I scribe,
How many were the colors, which I scarcely can describe –
The fading greens, the yellows, pinks, the many shades of red –
The colors of those aging leaves, which soon would all be dead…
 
And when I walked below that tree, I saw the fallen leaves
On sidewalk, street – and curbside, deep in multicolored sheaves.
How graceful were those fallen leaves – in aging and in death…
If only we could age as well – to be, by angels, met…
 
The world is full of cruelty.  If men would disappear,
It still would be a cruel world, beset by lust and fear.
And yet, this world has beauty, grace.  How wondrous was this tree
That stood alone, ablaze – and yet – in grace – and living free.
 
2014 October 18th, Sat.
Brooklyn, New York