Recalcitrant leaves,
that from from their mother tree, flee.
And Betray the resilient green,
in favor of the more contemporary
auburn, crimson, and saffron.
Running away they carpet the street,
and upon my ambling walk is where we meet.
Their adolescent temperament is amusing to me.
That we should agree upon, during this stroll.
Their whimsical flitterings in the way of my walk,
persist in flamboyantly ridiculous manner.
As if they had no mind for where they should fall.
Capriciously casting themselves to the wind as if it shouldn't matter.
I am compelled to scorn them for their insolence.
For the roots provide them with safety,
but they prefer to be walked on by me.
I am amiss for an answer to their obstinance,
their logic is devoid of continence.
But I will not judge, they can fulfill their dreams,
I will continue to walk wondering what it means