Fall
I am letting go of leaves
Or are they letting go of me
I watch their downward drifting
Rocking back and forth by breeze
Cradled quiet on their journey
A silent lullaby
I hang with each one in the air
Once supple green now brown and dry
I choose to watch their falling
My nature aches to be reminded
How very short a season lasts
Born sycamore instead of pine
I was made to shed this skin
Grey rolls of cardboard slipping slight
Leaning with the wind I have a look
At pieces scattered left and right
I shake the weight of my bare branches
Absorb the fading warmth and light
I was not formed to endure changes
While remaining straight and green
From root to tip, where blackbirds grip
The travel of the earth, I feel it
— April Resnick
Study of a sycamore branch by Drusilla Montemayor
sometimesihatemycat 
Leaves like mulch
Soggy breakfast for
some
Stuck to my shoe
Oh yes
thanks
Great! Thank you too for reading.
Stunning. Thank you so much. I especially like, ” Grey rolls of cardboard slipping slight Leaning with the wind .”
So glad you liked it. Thank you very much for reading.