Paul Hartal

One summer day

Walking on a sunlit street

I plucked a leaf from a tree.

“Why did you do that? ” she asked.

“Just playing”, I said.

“Don’t harm the trees”, she said.

“They have their own life”.

“But the wind yanks leaves all the time”,

I averred defensively.

She gave me a pensive look.

“But you are not the wind”,

She said.