The Leaves, The Leaves

Mordecai believes,

despite the stripes

upon his clothes;

despite the smoke

and reek of tallow fat,

despite the foolish in the trains,

despite un-smiling uniforms.

Mordecai believes, because of the leaves.

Spring greened branches sing,

the black uniform is stark

against the colour of life.

“Off the train! You! To the Left!”

And Mordecai’s sister is sent to the right.

Mordecai believes, because of the leaves.

The blossom softens in summer wind,

which carries all the smoke

perhaps as far as Canaan.

“Achtung! Halt! Stop or I fire!’

And Mordecai’s brother is gone in the night.

Mordecai believes because of the leaves.

The breeze rustles

autumn’s fire-coloured trees

such beauty lies in hope.

“You! Get up! Ach, you are done.”

And Mordecai himself has lost the fight.

Mordecai believed because of the leaves.

“In, in! Mach es schnell!”

But Winter comes and they’re gone overnight.