The sweeper looks surprised when I say, “Treat the dried leaves with the same respect you give the dead.”
I hear the leaves crying out in anger when trampled by insensitive feet. The widowed branches are unsure if they want to mourn the departure of the old or welcome the new arrival.
Seasons always put us in a quandary. What we miss now will return in a different avatar while we remain wondering in the same spot.
is it rebellion
lighting up a fire within
flaming orange leaves
Creative Experiments and More 
I love your haibun, Reena! Especially “The sweeper looks surprised when I say, “Treat the dried leaves with the same respect you give the dead.””
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Thank you, Nolcha!
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I love the thought, and I feel the same that the leaves reminds me of death
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Glad you could relate to it. Thanks, Bjorn!
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Superbly worked Haibun…interesting, and clever, and really, the haiku fits just right. V nicely presented.
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Thank you so much, Ain!
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A wise, sensitive and a thought provoking write, Ma’am. I enjoyed this marvellous piece. 🙂
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Thank you so much, Aishwarya!
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I love the idea of treating ‘dried leaves with the same respect you give the dead’, Reena, and how the ‘widowed branches are unsure if they want to mourn the departure of the old or welcome the new arrival’. I especially love the blazing haiku.
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Thank you so much, Kim!
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You’re most welcome, Reena!
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Even if it’s not rebellion, it very unwise practice
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Ae bure waqt jara adab se pesh aa
Waqt nahin lagta waqt badalne mein
– Mirza Ghalib
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Wah wah.
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