When the Twig Snaps

Brittle and broken, the eucalyptus snaps loudest. Pulverized by constant wear of boots on dusty trails. Debris of lifeless memories detached from vital source, scattered broken on apathetic earth, pummeled by the passerby. A lifetime of transforming sunlight obliterated in the spiraling downward dance of fall, to publicly mourn its own demise at the foot of the future, blooming green and leafy in the sun. Life starts and bursts so young and eager. And so the workhouse of servitude begins its tasks. Fully ripened and heavy in the heat of maturity then snapping, sailing in the autumnal chill. Yet in death, oh my, the scent returns, a citrusy, mint, rosemary-like eulogy. Eucalyptus snaps the loudest in refrain to a singular journey at its end.