Leaves on a Windy Night

Autumn winds

Blow autumn leaves.

They speak in papery whispers

Between me

And the night sky.

 

Their whispers carry them down,

Gently to the ground.

Their conversation crackles underfoot.

 

Cracked, old voices

Speaking the memory

of Spring,

of Summer.

Memories of the

Winter past,

Promise of the

Winter ahead.

 

Daytime reds and golds,

Settle into deep autumn browns.

Night draws them in charcoal,

Silhouettes against an ashen sky.

 

Stirred by sharp-edged winds,

They whisper old labors

And coming rest.

 

All things begin green.

Senescence brings all things to rest.

 

We all need rest.

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