Fallen Leaves

The fallen leaves blanket the ground, In shades of gold and burnt crimson red, A tapestry woven, by nature’s hand found, As they dance to the song of the seasons ahead.

With each gentle breeze, they flutter and sway, An autumnal waltz, a soft farewell, They whisper of summer in a fleeting display, In their final embrace, there’s a story to tell.

And as I walk by, I pause to admire, The beauty of life in this cycle so true, For even in falling, there’s a spark of fire, In the dance of the leaves, I find joy anew.

• John Burroughs