Tumbling . . . .

tumbling . . . .

tumbling . . . .

leaves.

Snatched by the wind,
whisked from trees.
Metaphoric of the passerby
or seasonal people
who move in and out of lives.
They may be around while
peaceful and calm
and without a word ,
they hurry off
when the storm is born.

Now we lie bare
in the folds of the tree,
melted by the embrace
& not fully aware of the branches
that are soon to brake....