Sycamore Leaves

The leaves fall from the sycamore
One by one
And look more like some great bird
Leaping to the ground,
Than a fluttering leaf.

Other trees lose all their leaves
With just one gust of wind,
Leaving a carpet of yellow leaves
Beneath the trees naked branches
As if they had just dropped their petticoat.

Most tenacious of all,
The leaves of the mighty oak
Seem to cling for dear life,
Holding on even into the midst of winter,
Seeming never to realize that
They have been dead for sometime.

For all their differences,
No matter how harshly they protest
Or how easily they give up,
Each year the leaves fall
And winter comes.