The leaves are falling
they aren't sad
they know their time
has come. This they've been expecting. We last but a season.
The sun burnt us. The storms ravaged us. The snow froze us. The night oppressed us with its mocking silence. We've been punished and bruised.

We are falling. Happy to be falling. To the sod we belong and it's waiting. We'll be trodden upon as that's our lot.

Do you humans suffer the same fate?

Let us say this. There's comfort in
falling--there's no struggling; light is the feeling; to the earth must return, all living things; desires are vanishing and there's some mysterious joy in the ending; beauty of a kind beyond knowing is descending. There's the gaining in the losing.

Don't feel sad for us, you humans who by here are passing.

When you hear the winds blowing,
it'd be our voice singing.