To see light leave eyes.
The final shaky, raspy,
sometimes gargled
exhale of life
and watch the body deflate--
like its soul was matter
that filled its belly
or as if it could be
a balloon animal
that stepped on a pin.
Only they don’t pop--
they sink.
They fall
back
into dust.
It’s hard to watch death.
Not the leaves though.
To see all their phases
and forms.
How change holds different meanings
between chlorophyll and veins.
The colors of mortality
in shades of green, red, and brown.
To watch their gold shell catch light,
and dance
before they shrivel
and fall to the ground.
Before they
become dust
once again.