FALLING LEAVES
They lift and pirouette in the pulsing breeze,
These brown and desiccated maple leaves,
Dancing and leaping and twisting, a phantom crowd,
Surrounding me and my car in a thickening cloud.
They seem to have some message they want to convey;
They seem to want me to stop while they have their say.
I will slow my pace but I will not come to a halt,
Whatever these autumn messengers foretell.
Bare branches offer an unimpeded view
Allowing the splendor of sunsets to come through.
Snow-dusted branches also have their charm:
Who strides on snowshoes easily keeps warm.
At any time of the year I’ll keep journeying.
The day has not yet come for tamely sitting.
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