by Susanna Joy Magruder
Listen to the song of falling leaves.
Observe with a hastening breath. for
Before the hour of their demise
Their faces shine with a burning sun;
Many jewels across the tumbling wind.
From a sulfur glazed fire,
To the fur of a brown-backed mouse.
Watch the hair of the trees, spiraling down,
To land in a pond with shining grace,
With hardly a ripple from where they touched,
To expose this meeting of untold life