Young Writers Project is a creative online community of teen writers, photographers, and artists, based in Vermont since 2006. Each week, VTDigger features the writing and art of young Vermonters who publish their work on youngwritersproject.org, a free, interactive website for youth 12-18 years old. To find out more, visit youngwritersproject.org, or contact Executive Director Susan Reid at sreid@youngwritersproject.org; 802-324-9538.
“Friendship is a sheltering tree,” English Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote, but every tree offering support and safety is in need of its own – it may just be either too proud or too bashful to admit it. This week’s featured writer, Astrid Longstreth of Jericho, sings a heartfelt song of companionship between a tree shivering through the long winter months and one last little leaf who refuses to leave its barren branches.
That one little leaf
By Astrid Longstreth, 13, of Jericho
I saw a solitary orange-brown leaf clinging to a lonely sapling —
and was sure that it would fall —
but it hung on even as its fellow leaves descended to the forest floor.
Even as Frost came out of hiding, his icy clutch bursting forth from the ground.
Even as Snow coated the land and blanketed it in her embrace, muffling sharp angles
and casting a strange spell of silence throughout the trees.
Even as the icy wind blew and blustered, making the leaf shiver in the cold air,
That one little leaf hung on,
like a glowing ember amid blackened coals,
like a torch in the midnight air.
It stood out and hung on, that one little leaf,
so determined to stand its ground.
And it was not until Spring came and exhaled her warm breath,
and the flowers bloomed,
that that one little leaf fell.
It floated gently down to the soft, green grass,
and I thought I heard, when it finally let go,
a relieved breath be let out,
and it almost sounded like a sigh of contentment.
And so I now ask of that one little leaf:
Why did you hang on so long?
Were you simply determined to defy Nature’s will?
Were you scared of what might come next?
Or maybe — just maybe — you were keeping that one lonely, little sapling company
through the harsh winter months, not wanting it to be alone, and when new leaves
finally budded and grew upon the branches of that lonely sapling,
your duty had been fulfilled?
It seems that maybe you were only helping a friend survive through hardship,
staying long past what was due —
simply hanging on for that one lonely sapling,
like a true friend would.
