Dead and Living Things

These perfectly elongated teardrops
Are living cellular sculptures.
Their bladelike edges slice the air,
As they gently fall to earth.

Their spear tips – razor sharp, drop like feathers,
But their soft, delicate bodies
Soon harden and crack from harsh sun,
Leaving them dry and withered.

Now, discarded and unwanted they lie
Littering the well-worn pathways
Where nature’s creatures search for food
Amidst their cracked carcasses.

Their scent entices many predators –
Delicious eucalyptus oils
That waft through the morning breezes
To ignite keen appetites.

Their leaves, left to endure the ravages
Of caterpillars and the like
Are devoured – but never destroyed
As in seed they’ll grow once more.