You leaf trembling on a maple branch,
Spreading five fingers against breezes, however strong,
Holding onto a single hook you call home, catching sun for your creator,
Sensible to give food to mantis, aphid, even the low lying beetle,
Reach the end of the line, ready for end frosting, detach and fall,
Into a final embrace with air, falling soft on somber dirt, soon becoming the watchful eye for next frost season.