There was something strange about the leaves
Something deliberate in their movements
As if they were up to something.
- . -
Leaves. What are they rushing for? Rushing
towards some goal we have no way of knowing.
Rushing - chasing - gathering -
Preparing
For an Uproar in the society of leaves. Forming
A movement of leaves from last fall. Claiming
The street - the entire street for the leaves! -
Deserted by everyone else
As streets are on Sunday mornings
When all but the leaves are asleep.
We who sleep, rest and recover
From attempted escapes, flights of fancy
That never takes us too far.
For we always know, where we'll end up.
In some bed, on some Sunday, hung-over.
(Yes, some Saturdays may last for ages.
But Mondays are certain to come.)
Yet while we sleep, while we rest and recover
Each leaf is ready to go
With him who brings different air,
Joining the movement of leaves,
making way for a change.
The leaves sense it coming.
Do we?
Something deliberate in their movements
As if they were up to something.
- . -
Leaves. What are they rushing for? Rushing
towards some goal we have no way of knowing.
Rushing - chasing - gathering -
Preparing
For an Uproar in the society of leaves. Forming
A movement of leaves from last fall. Claiming
The street - the entire street for the leaves! -
Deserted by everyone else
As streets are on Sunday mornings
When all but the leaves are asleep.
We who sleep, rest and recover
From attempted escapes, flights of fancy
That never takes us too far.
For we always know, where we'll end up.
In some bed, on some Sunday, hung-over.
(Yes, some Saturdays may last for ages.
But Mondays are certain to come.)
Yet while we sleep, while we rest and recover
Each leaf is ready to go
With him who brings different air,
Joining the movement of leaves,
making way for a change.
The leaves sense it coming.
Do we?