Falling Leaves

Leaves falling on a late summer’s morn,
fleeing a deadly blossom
that erupted orange and black
against a faultless blue sky.

Silently falling,
here alone,
there two,
there three,
joined in a cluster.

You hoped that some sudden gust of wind
would buoy them up,
as leaves are often
suspended in a whirlwind,
and carry them away,
away to land softly
on some grassy spot.

You turn away,
unable to bear witness to the
They fall silently,
fall at last into
the blessed arms of that final
sleep that we all must share

And you are changed.