Words of Gibberish
I eavesdrop on chatty breezes
whispering words of gibberish,
amidst the sound of rustling leaves.
By setting the leaves aflutter;
they garner secrets from the trees,
interpreting their sighs and heaves.
Autumn creates a fairyland,
at the first hint of Jack Frost's breath;
stripping all the trees in the park.
And rays of light freckle the ground:
playing tag with shifting shadows,
cast by naked twigs, bare and stark.
Strolling through Fall's kaleidoscope
my anxieties disappear,
and I tend to manage a smile.
The sweet laughter of the children
frolicking in piles of dried leaves:
makes Summer's departure worthwhile.
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