Gleeful with vibrant chroma, look at the gall of the leaves
Bereft of the branches, on the ground, a shawl of the leaves.
Fluttering in the cold autumn breeze, hanging precariously
Are these conversations or the last brawl of the leaves?
Leaf senescence and the appreciation of imperfect beauty:
the wabi-sabi viewpoint enacted – the real windfall of the leaves.
With water from the ground, gases from the air, sun kissed, we
nourished you, O tree, now at your base, we, a haul of the leaves.
The doctrine of existence produces a ‘Mirage’ of permanence.
Neither dread nor wonder last forever at the fall of the leaves.