Forsake the Leaf

Inspect a leaf.
Tell me it is asymmetrically grown —
Imperfect, somehow.

Of course it is.
We make mistakes when we shoot out
All our leaves in one springtime.

You may stand there,
Nose pressed to palm,
Thin green sheet resting between them,

And criticize the details,
While the spirits of the forest around you
Purse their lips, cheeks scrunched upwards.

Dear traveler,
Please,
Forsake the leaf for the forest.

See my elves frolic in homemade skirts,
Delight in their whittled flutes and carved drums,
Taste the colors streaming off their mirage-like bodies.

These creatures have long protected me and my home.
My former stone ruins have risen,
Giving rise to a bustling town.

My people, who have survived horrid famine,
Will be so generously warm upon your arrival.
We have prophesied and prayed for you, for so long.

This soon-to-be-kingdom in the forest
Has more than enough
To give and share.

Please put down the leaf and care
To see our land, thriving,
Behind the trees.