The Maple Leaf

By J.S. McGregor

The Maple Leafs are falling

On foreign soil once again

To be scattered across the desert

By unforgiving Asian wind

This dust is barren, unprotected

Unlike his field of wheat

The sand is so unlike his Maritimes

No majestic rocky peak

He hears a lonely piper now

Black boots marching through the snow

The warm drape of the maple leaf

Tells him all he has to know

Four winds have gently cast the leaf

To land on home terrain

Flying freely there, he will declare

His fall was not in vain.