dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain
their reds and yellows dull on the dark ground
so much of sorrow is already plain

to us who listen as the boughs complain
at the winds passage with a sighing sound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are one more sign of life's passing campaign
against eternity this is one round
so much of sorrow is already plain

and we're the losers since we never gain
a single inch nor hope for a rebound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are but the markers of our lost terrain
someone will come and heap them in a mound
so much of sorrow is already plain

it is reality nothing arcane
our normal vista not a thing profound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain
so much of sorrow is already plain