Autumn leaves chased after
One another
Spinning pirouettes like
Children at play
Rustling in gentle laughter.
I stifled a cry
To call them aside
Stand clear from harm's way
"Rest with me amid
Short grass and mud"
I thought I should say
Then, these days,
Their days,
Have number, too
So I stood quietly by,
Lived their joy
As they hopped and flew
'Till speeder's wake,
A blind, uncaring rake,
Swept them all away