A leaf
In the gentle autumn breeze
Softly falls to Earth,
Together with its siblings
It lines the woodland path.
The ground below is cold but soft,
Still sensing the September sun,
Not yet has winter’s icy breath
Been felt, not yet its reign begun.
The creatures of the forest
Patter to and fro,
Their feet and wings stirring the leaves
On the ground below.
By comes a fox, takes careful watch,
Then vanishes from sight,
By comes a robin, plucking berries
And then, once more, takes flight,
By comes a squirrel, in its search
For nuts it takes delight,
And finally, by comes the owl,
Waiting for the cloak of night.
The leaf, still lying on the ground,
Is eager for another day
But then, by comes a gust of wind
And carries it away.
