a bit monkish.
You make me wonder, little leaf
Why you aren’t on the ground.
Your friends lie scattered far below.
You aimed for Jesus’ mouth.
All summer long you flew above
The earth and all below.
You danced in choreography
When warming winds would blow
When Southern winds came from the North
And nights outlasted days,
Then one by one your friends would fall
But did they sing God’s praise?
So did they teach you where to fall
In playful, swirling swings?
Your friends were waiting far below
Your mind was on holy things.
If I could fall just like that leaf
And land wherever I pleased
Would I choose the loving lips of him
Who spoke to the least of these?
Lord, make me like this little leaf
Who chose the better way.
If my heart ever landed far below
I fear it would decay.
(c) 2017 Michael C. Voigts