If a leaf is able to suffer the agony of lightning,
Then surely it is able to treasure a Breeze from Heaven.
Its dwelling of skeletal nature birthed erroneously.
Elements of Bliss beckon to the tree’s feather,
The latter not with resistance, but with unadulterated passion.
The heart of an alluring creature pumps cherry warmth
Through silk-strand veins of our abandoned mother’s offspring.
Like a seraphim’s hair does our friend drift across a minuscule vastness,
Along God’s fingertip. Converging after so many years
With the faultless edge of the nail, the leaf’s liquid life an angel swallows.
No longer is he misplaced:
For he is held by fate.
Nevermore is home a mere “dwelling”:
For Home is Heaven.
Chris Graham
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-brown-to-green/
