Motion of a Fall
Leaves no longer held-aloft by their deciduous vaults
Clutter gutters and breezily sweep streets and rest
On right and left road sides, bright and red.
Tunnels formed by old trees meeting arc
Across city-streets and campus-sidewalks.
The bright red light shreds right
Through the quasi-dismal damp
Fog and is mirrored in the ditch’s bog.
The yellow is less aggressive,
More slow to say “hello,
Nomad, pause your show of bursts
Of fabricated steel and what is unreal.”
Trees colored green recollect when
They were tenderfoot, preempting
The Fall of unawakened Autumn,
But tend towards following their peers.
Leaves stand in the back of a room,
Stand in the forefront of the meteorological gloom
And trickle their color onto the gray
Sidewalk once bland and wet as the sky,
Now leaf-littered and shimmering with glances of upright reality;
Colors whet on the watery walkway
By flattened leaves and reflections of trees.
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