He Leaves For the Leaves

HE LEAVES FOR THE LEAVES Leave work? Then I want to be dazzled by the crop Of fall trees still in full leaf but about to drop As if loaded with flames yellow,and russet That ripple thru leaves , wind-fuelled, sunlit . The little flames are thrown to the river glass, A hard fall, a landing ungainly, crass. Unlike their graceful selves when branch-borne, They fall to the river, meet their reflections and mourn And float ignominiously, and collect their fellows In untidy piles at the slack water shallows Among the faded reeds and river weeds Where ducks scavenged, lunched But there are no longer swallows bunched. A fall from on high is filled with pathos And seeming chaos. End of beauty air-light , and the grief I feel for each fallen golden leaf Matches my joy for the tree. It now survives the all- Too- soon-but-not-quite- yet winter And its killing cold. And produces another Dazzling flame-throwing show next fall.