Crisp autumn air

leaves falling

floating gently down

to touch the skin of the earth

The trees centering the essence

of their vital force

deep within the heart of their being

The leaves have since left behind

the subtle shades of green

transforming to yellow… orange and red

connection… creation and grounding

They move on to brown

as they come to bed themselves in final grounding

giving life back to the earthen soil

The snows will float gently

as the leaves before

down to lay upon them

holding onto the precious waters of life

The leaves are blanketed with protection

from the winds that brought themto their final resting place

Here is where their transformation takes place

as they decay from the leaves we have known

and become the nourishment

gifted with the melted snows

for the next generationborn in spring

The leaves I have loved

for all of my days on earth

the smell of them

the sound of them

crackling sweetly below my feet

telling the story of the winter to come

The varied shapes and colors

I would collect as a child


to keep each and every one

I sit here now

In realization I have none

But the memories of the beloved leaves

gifted from my tree brothers and sisters

I will carry with me always

The joyousness of piling them together

to jump… to play… to hide… to roll … to be…with leaves

They would stick to my hair

and be found inside my clothes

from the day that they fell

until the day the snow cameand buried my beloved companions for the year

I would throw them at my brother

sometimes my sister too

she however was convinced

she had grown too oldfor such child’s play as leaves

As I look out the window

at the forest all around me

I find leaves are at a minimum

as it is evergreen trees I see

If there were enough

I’d find a handy rake

and make a real big pile

and recapture

the smell… the touch… the life… of leaves

By rolling… and laughing… and giggling… and jumping

and when winter stole my precious leaves for the year

I could begin to dream aboutsleds… and snowballs… and snowmen

and continue the joyousness of leaves

into the whiteness of winter

Engtovo ~ November 11 1997

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