The wind plucks the leaves from the trees,
Ever so gracefully they fall,
Flitting here and there at the wind’s whims.
When they hit the ground
Tiny creatures skitter over and around them,
And insects take cover underneath.
Other creatures pay them no heed,
Crunching the fragile colors underfoot,
Leaving them to lie, to be forgotten.
Purple, red, orange, gold, yellow.
They subtly add to nature’s beauty,
And as they fall they whisper farewell.