Rolling Down My Hill

I stand at the top of my hill, Spread my arms and fall and roll, Over pavement, yellowing grass, Into balls of trees of autumn. Jasper, topaz, ruby, and orange true, At last my windings end At the edge of a creek reflecting these, With ripples of gentle wind, I pray as I see through trees to the sky, An afternoon blue with little birds fluttering, Fluttering to find what’s left for their tummies, Before roosting in the first cool nights. Welcome Fall, and please quickly pass, Pass through red and green, For I am one for warm days and then The sparkle of tender spring.