Trembling fragile forms, moored to gangly twigs,
undulate in beckoning oscillation.
Surging neighbored clusters of swishing verdant sprigs
shape a canopy in leafy constellation.

Both by sky and contrasting clouds caressed,
they shiver and vibrate on unseen stems.
Floating entities, affixed nonetheless,
like taps of impressionist color gems.

Nodding hierarchies, to gentle breeze unfurled,
spread planar shadows on a more-dimensioned world.
Clinging to vibrant life these nodding members vie,
ignorant of the certainty that soon all will die.

We mortals, too, collect in progenitive swarms,
outlining our lineage on ancestry forms.
Some sprout descendants, adding branches to the tree;
alas, barren others fade from future memory.

Procreators launch new generations to face their lot,
endowing love and heritage to children they begot.
Other humankind, to whom successors are denied,
must break the golden bowl with seed disqualified.

That we should be prolific or shed continuity
is foreordained -- a destiny beyond our control.
But while we cling as leaves on that ancestral tree,
let us free the Charity residing in the soul.

❀