As the last golden leaf of autumn slowly,
whirls and twirls in its dance of death,
to mother earth’s bosom it grudgingly falls.
Un-noticed…
a cool breeze silently lifts it into the
chalky blue sky, higher, higher it glides.
Like a lonely soul…
where it will land no one knows.
Across the barbwire fence, an
emerald lake, the stubble corn
fields and into the darkness
of oblivion forever to rest.
Only to be replaced in the spring
by a young and tender budding
sprout that will grow into a mighty
oak tree, without a doubt.