Set Free

Set free 9.20pm 28-05-08
We have such little time, walking, living as we do between spring and winter.
"I'm in the summer of my life, I've seen the good times and I've seen the strife..." (Archie Roach).
And are we aware that we as leaves are perpetually falling?
Some might say that it is the wind, at season's end that breaks our hold and sets us free.
But that same wind comes throughout and with every season.
Blowing strongly in the easterly winds and in the Fremantle doctor's afternoon breeze, absorbs and pushes the heat haze, which soon withdraws and they such leaves who cannot bend soon all but disappear.
It's life's journey, those who are flexible survive and prosper, those who rest too upright in the branches are too often caught by surprise, humbled in their demise...
Plane leaves are flexible - they have at least taught me that.
Equally, they spread themselves before the midday sun and when their work is done they rest - hang limp upon the branch.
They live in community and carry the burden of falling drops, that shatter, but harm them not.
And then, when the nearby Illawarra has dropped her handbag of coloured red lips that all her winged lovers have there in kissed, the leaves of the Plane begin to turn.
Hardly noticeable at first they quicken as the days grow shorter.
The air grows cooler and their solar sails fade to yellow, then brittle winged brown.
Till like today they become paper planes thrown by an invisible hand, their grip unloosened, unleashed, they are finally, set free.