As I walk,
Brown husks crunch beneath my busied mind.
I see subtle irony in the carnage that change leaves behind,
Even as I smile in awe at the vibrant treasure trove of colors before me.

A smattering of hues flatters my sight
I turn slowly--
Needing only to reach up
And pluck that upon which I choose to alight.

We admire the foliage as it turns,
Until its belly is fully exposed and we are left disgusted.

When I go, I too shall leave behind a withered,
Hollow skin.