INDECISION

Trembling little leaf,

So scared of dying

Congregates with like-minded leaves,

Hoping to stave off the inevitable.

Shaking and fearful, clinging to hope.

Confident in community.

Until

The hard frost swings its scythe.

A choice must be made.

Either stay here on the slumbering tree, in the open air,

Whipped by the northern wind and its death sentence

Or

Fall to the ground

And be covered in the comforting blanket of snow

Transformed into something nurturing,

So the next generation of life

Can find its roots.