A tinge of mauve designed by autumn’s glow
upon her leaves, coated in frosty dyes
glorious their sways, draped in misty yellow,
iridescent like tassels of fireflies.
I roam to catch ridged curls in revelry
and seek them through air, blowing a wish
to wonder at leaves’ palette from ornate tree,
their ribs tenderly coiled by fall’s varnish.
A landscape gleaming through brushed mosaic
where dew trickles on their velveteen sheaths,
from backdrop of night’s frame to lamplight’s wick
upturned by breath of winds when hours bequeath
and know that their radiance will crack in time
if I should gather them in my hands to keep.
This enchantment is never to be mine,
I fling autumn leaves to skies, half asleep.
Contest: Autumn's Breath of Gail Doyle