their tiny hands, found the shape of unwanted leaves and fit them between their soft palms of flesh.
there was little concern over the unorthodox appearance of these plants. They did not look the same; having left the swinging branches and lush forests bush. Some pointed out with sheer acceptance how dehydrated these looked, with their edges curling up in heat. They need a drink; that’s what they need. Lifting piece, by piece to test their senses, first to their nose. One commented it smelt of the ground, and another of soil and a few others; of growing grass and dried wood.
as they edged the tips of their fingers across the veins and streaks, they felt it’s crusty texture. Seeming to replicate the thin crust of well done toast. There was not a spectacular colour to be found on these dried specimens; the common green in minimal tones.
Tiny craters found their place at certain corners, and with moist air they perished into the colour of mould the teakwood. We imagined creatures of the woods who, at once graced the surface of these fronts.
what a treat from nature, it was. And so we said a little thank you that echoed and then, vanished into the passing wind