Each leaf that falls

carries a dream...

it shows a world of colour

even though it may not seem alive

but the vividness stains your memory

with crimson, gold, and violet

The river is the temporary home

where the leaves shall drift

and tell stories in the company

of fellow acquaintances

of the life they lived in the summer months

on the mark they left behind

And I watch as they journey

through the ripples of the clear, glass water

purifying themselves in the tears of nature's sorrow

capturing the glimmer of sunlight

peeking through the noble trees

I let the fire among the stones die down

leaving a ring of embers

that silently illuminate the shadows of charred branches

into the faint smoke that rises to the sky

The smell of autumn is like the crispness of the apple

in the beauty of the clock of blurred time

in the space of one thousand trees that come to shield me

to the roots of the ground we call home

and it passes the river towards the cycle of life

The leaves meet their end

maybe without the knowledge

that I have come to keep

but in the way that is intended

for life to keep going...