Praying to Plants

Leaves drift like paper planes,  
Spiraling in elegant descent,  
No dogfight, no ace, no violent end,  
They just surrender to gravity's sway.  

In this autumnal ballet,  
Nature's hand paints scenes of decay,  
Yet within this cycle, there lies grace,  
A serene beauty in every fallen face.  

Plants too embrace their final bow,  
With hues of brown, they gracefully endow,  
No cries of pain, no desperate plea,  
Just a quiet acceptance of life's decree.  

Should we not turn our prayers to them?  
To the silent guardians of earth's gem,  
For they provide the air we breathe,  
And in their leaves, our sustenance we receive.  

In the quiet whispers of rustling leaves,  
Resides the wisdom that nature weaves,  
Let us bow not to the heavens above,  
But to the earthly guardians, the plants we love.  

In their silent growth, let us find our voice,  
In their gentle sway, let us rejoice,  
For in their cycle of life and decay,  
Lies the true essence of our earthly way.

The Original

Before there was a poem about nature and death and dying that expressed a wish for us to try praying to plants, there were words randomly scribbled onto the a page in a little red notebook. It can take years to write a poem.

October 15, 2019. No Title

leaves fall like paper airplanes spiraling out of control but they do not explode. 
It is a never ending dance of death only fall. 
Autumn. 
The season of Halloween.
All Hallows Eve.
They have the power and grace to present dying as a calm serene beauty. 
Plants die beautifully even dried and crusted. 
There is no blood or gore just a brown,
unlike humans and other mammals and insects, 
the roots may 
the roots may not be dead, 
the roots may not be dead. 

Sometimes a dead plant may surprise you
suddenly returning after death
like Jesus's resurrection the plant can return. 

We should pray to the plants. 
We should pray to plants. 
They give us air, food, clean our water,
and sometimes hold the water for us. 

They carry medicines

What do you think? Is the final draft the better draft? Sometimes, I like the rawness of an original, but translating what I feel when I read the original to what I hope the reader to feel or understand, doesn’t always work.

What do you think about the poem?