Whispers Of Autumn

Pastel’s zenith found itself, days gone by,

And splashed the woods with hickory yellow,

Rustic crimson ate the chlorophyll dye,

Sugar maples lit raspberry mellow.

Now hued leaves turn overnight brown,

They grasp to twig homes like bird claws,

But rain sprinkles gravity, pulling down,

And little zephyr twists are final straws.

Nine-month stems break weakened clasp,

Crispy curls float toward winter station,

Softly click as at bare limbs they grasp,

Desperate to avoid predestination.

In sporadic flocks they gather, descend

To whirl about, collide, one another,

From the full treetops their way wend,

Toward feet of sleeping mother.

Spiral down hushed helix, down and down,

Softly whisper swan song dying,

Settle into carpet, siblings around,

For precious sunlight not now vying,

For rustling rest ‘til bacteria, mold

Convert substance to topsoil loam,

Their mother, other flora fold —

Nutrients for a new leaf’s home.

This mighty secret the leaves all know,

Life recycles in the course of time,

November’s quiet whispers, so low —

Immortality song sublime!