The Leaves
are lucky in autumn
They flash with brilliance of color
in the waning sun
The Leaves
are lucky in autumn
Dancing lightly
in the season's breeze
Holding so delicately
to their respective limbs
and then so gently
letting go
The Leaves
are lucky in autumn
As they hardly even seem to fall
but instead appear to be
gliding, drifting, floating...
to the surface of the ground
Where they are not buried
but whisked away to somewhere else
along the changing winds
As they are gradually
forgotten, and unseen
Without being replaced too soon
Without hindering their dear branches
but sparing them their weight
The Leaves
are lucky in autumn
For they will be gone
before the winter's bitter cold
before the heaps of snow
before the sheets of ice
The Leaves
are lucky in autumn
but they were only born in spring
and will not live to see another
They will miss the blossoming scenes
of so many springs to come
Each blooming being greater
than a thousand winter's doom
The leaves will miss them all
and the leaves themselves will be missed
but
The Leaves are Lucky
in autumn...
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