Tell me
how the leaf felt
as it fell
from the scorched height
of the mango tree,
thirsting at the expense
of that powdery green fruit,
twirling down fluttered
unfettered towards a clean refreshing mirror
and dipping, tip and stem
into a cold pool, drinking full its fill,
un-tamed,
only to choke, chemical fury
rising and sliding – hot and chlorinated
before a current (man made)
tipped it on its back
to stare up at its brothers and sisters
before an unmade drowning death
dragged it to the bottom,
to be plucked out;
to be cleaned out;
to be a clog:
A leaf no more.
Book of Pye 