Can you see the scattered leaves?

They all turn at different times.

Each new week more turn the color of fire,

Then fade to a modest brown

And wither to dust

As their golden hour is over.

Can you hear the scattered leaves?

Some harmonize with the wind’s voice,

Whistling for an audience.

Others prefer to whisper ever so peacefully

Off to the side of the road,

Not causing an uproar for anyone.

Can you feel the scattered leaves?

Some need to brush up against you,

To get your rhythm, to hold your hand.

Some leaves find themselves touching other leaves,

Bunching up and swirling in collaborative whirlpools.

Others trick themselves into thinking they can brave the winter wind alone.

Do you know the special thing about leaves?

They’re all going in different directions.

That’s the one thing that’s the same.

And if these fall, don’t worry.

Maybe the leaves will come back next year.

Leaves tend to do that.