In the fall, the leaves
Begin their fight.
You can tell there
Is something resisting,
It’s in the changing air.
In the fall, the leaves
Begin to charge.
You can tell there
Is something burning,
All bright flash and flare.
In the fall, the leaves
Begin to cling.
You can tell there
Is something begging
To be seen in their fall.
In the fall, the leaves
Begin their funeral.
You can tell there
Is something moving
In how they say their prayer.
But the last leaf sings so loud
And as he falls down to the ground
He joins the rest of fall, resting, oh so proud.
August 22/2011
