Answering My Oldest Daughter’s Question

I'm not sure why every leaf must die...

Emerald fading to gold.

Gold fading to umber.

Brittle stems cracking

and nature's tissue paper,

left unused far

too long, careens

down to the crunchy grass.

Lying, waiting

for tiny, rubber Converse

soles to press

them farther into the dirt.

No, I'm not sure why every leaf must die...

But maybe its so grubby-handed,

wild-haired,

cackling

toddlers can spend an afternoon

stomping them.