The Tree of Many Winters

A leaf lay meekly on the ground
From it came no sound
Its green was fading, turning brown
Crumbling into powder

Yet the tree from which it came
Was still with all its power
And as the wind went on its way
It sweetly sang for hours

Still more leaves came swirling down
And so the earth was full
Yet the tree had sap inside
Though outward it was dull

It held the soil with sturdy roots
Trunk like mighty tower
And in the spring, the sleeping thing
Was dressed in dainty flowers