“Thank you maam,” whispered the tree as I hit the patio with the leaf blower sending old dried leaves back her way.
“Blow those old leaves of mine right over here under me.”
She looked over her shoulder (the tree that is),
with her knotty eyes.
“You see all those branches he cut off me
I’m ok with that, i’s all good.
But yeah, just leave em to drop their leaves right hur under me.
You see sometimes the branches we’ve been holdin onto are just too dang heavy.
You, know that, ‘if your arm offends you’ kind of stuff. You think it’s normal to be holdin all this weight
stretchin yourself in everywhich way, but you really jus be riskin splittin yourself down the middle.
But yeah leave them old dead leaves right thur under me, blow them this way.
You see even though I don’t need them branches anymore,
I will take back all the nourishin lil of the bits of growth they produced.
Just compost that shit right back into my roots.”
Small Burdens 