The Fall Leaf

“What is it to be swept away?” I do not know anymore. I am more like a leaf in a pile of leaves caught up against a beautiful Jeffersonian brick wall protected from high winds and high tides a snuggled bug ...in a historic corner of the world well dressed...fine spun collected with other fine spun but I secretly know ..in my pristine safety a lining of the finest silver covers the truth love does not come ...calling here it never whispers in my ear nor peaks around this wall it does not rides up on gallant steed No beating drums pulsate in the woods ( Walden or other) nor in the green and gold valley below There is no stirring...no plucking upon my heart strings my music ...is mirror pond still