On its way away
The leaving leaf leafs through the ontologies of a more wanting head
It gets as far as the head that temperatures at an even loss of heat
Very much south of the North that any birthing indicates,
It is a head that loses at a set question of growth and division
It is a head that will therefore not grow divided
Will always sunnyside there, of course
And its occupation will be not more than what it misses
A tree in its own forest
Not a forest in its own tree
It will not forest when it rains
This one waits for the rain.
Much better for the leaf that always leaves.