The weight of leaves
No one knows
Why they cry
As they twirl in the streets
Their seemingly happy
Tornado dance
This chaotic prelude
To snow
As people look away
The unwelcome freshness
Of the sudden chill
On faces
All so unexpected
As leaves disperse
Find new places to land
As we summon what
Little courage we’ve got left
To hold back tears
And look for love
And God’s
Good Graces
Wonder
What is left to wonder?
How does the Monarch choose such fashionable attire?
Where does it find it’s strength
to travel across a continent?
The breath of the planet knows why.
We do not.
Yet we wonder about physical things anyway, about blessings from the material world, meaningless results.
As a thousand tiny wings circle our hemisphere,
continually generating new generations.
Endless clouds of warm colors
Flecks of black, orange, red, brown.
They never wonder
but we do
Sometimes it is all that’s left
It feels right
The Oak Tree says –
The oak tree says
Look at me
This is the way
I like to be seen
It is the absolute
Best I can be
As I’m about to drop my leaves
Favoring, red and orange
To my standard green
As my leaves now scurry
In the autumn breeze
The sun drops to the west
And shines to the east
As I bring the season
To his knees
Thanking the creator
For another colorful season