When a leaf falls, it leaves behind a legacy
A node, a nook bared of a garment
And I wonder what my legacy would be.

Would I change the shape of a Pizza?
Or just one degree of the tower of Pisa?

In that gulf, I’m engulfed by my own frailty.
Of how the moon can get swallowed by the night.

And that leaf I will be – dead one day – will crown a little patch
Of soil, giving a habitat to thousands of tiny bacteria.
And that thought by itself suffices.

Saprophytes burning little carbon bonds
Harvesting little energies to feed me,
To billions who will grow a heartbeat

And will hear my echo, long after me.

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