Futility

This poem is written from the point of view of a leaf.

I was nurtured by the sweet rains of summer.
Bravely I stood up to hurricanes of September.
Determined, I listened in vain
for the cessation of winds
and trembled at the laughter of the hail.
Now I withstand my disconnection
      from my tribe.
Silent and defensive,
they avenge my departure even now.