The leaves could fall in an autumn breeze,
As if gravity might allow rest for the trees,
And a single drop of sap might needle,
its way into the stalks.
For the next leaf that forms, gravity will not be so heavy.
But pull and tug as if taunting a playful voyage.
And the light might fall to brush off the colour,
Or parade the wonderful green.
Parade the wonderful yellow.
In the summer it might rain, and bring the heavenly earth to a bubble.
Where the leaves will stir the water, and allow the earth its rest.
Or parade the leaving fullness, and the rustle through the crisp.
Parade the wonderful yellow, the leaves, and it shall bring the green.