Dry and Crisp
Falls with a little
Puff of wind.
She spins and swirls
Around, around
Desperate to finally
Meet the ground.
The oak tree watches
Sad and cold.
She's watched so many fall –
So many fold.
All of her leaves
come and go
Not long after she
Helps them grow.
Their short lives appreiated
By the few who care
Who have learned to see beauty –
To stop and stare.
Is the short life worth it
For the little notice?
"Do we really have to leave so soon
Before anyone an know us?"
Inquires the trembling,
Tumbling leaf
Carried away on a
Slight, cool breeze
Abusive to leaves
[that] Ushers Autumn in
On a hasteful wind.
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