In the street where we lived 
Smoke like blue bubbles 
Rising from piles 
Of run-away leaves 
Maples and oaks 
Beeches and sycamores 
Threw down their burdens 
dancing for joy 
Down all the sidewalks 
Watched the leaves turning 
To colors we gathered 
and raked every yard 
Had its own offering 
Ready and waiting for 
Fathers to kneel 
Squatting before them 
With matches in hand 
Flames rocketing skyward 
Explosions of color 
A one-minute offering 
So quickly they 
Sink into dark 
Ashes glowing 
Spirits ascending 
In great plumes of 
Smoke hiding our faces 
Erasing the stars.