We are the leaves of many trees,
autumnal canvas of diversity.
When one of us falls to the ground
it matters not if we are red, yellow, orange, or Michael Brown.

There is a gap where we once danced,
high in the tree along the branch.
Among the winds, we waved and capered.
Out from trunk and limb  connection to our roots do taper.

If we don’t flourish in unison,
breathe and grow in colorful profusion,
we will no longer capture the light of sun.
In our earthly existence, what good will we have done?

We cannot abide the wanton disregard.
We are all of the trees along life’s boulevard.
We are all of great value, worthy of belief,
each forest, wood, branch, and every single leaf.

M. Zane McClellan

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