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
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