A leaf, a source of meditation,
In it carries all creation.
What mighty hand did each cell call,
To cluster, curl, spend, fall.
An appointed time to end the seam
To color, myriads of green.

Yes, Iíve heard of photosynthesis.
Who accepts that only repeats, limits, fences.
How awed am I, you little green leaf,
Who gave the will to pen this rhyme sheaf.

© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)


Watch these pages for more poems by Norma.
In the meantime, click the links below for other poems and stories by the authors at Lara's Den.


Field Of Dreams



The Winter Wind

Pecking Disorder

Our Part

Haiku: Flowers

And.......for many others, click the index image.

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