On a
cold freshet
wind of northern air
sails the tang of autumn leaves
incessant flocks of starlings chatter
as floating harbingers swirl downward
in delicate ever-changing rainbows
while crispy clouds of crunchy leaves
dance and tumble like child's laughter,
crowding in rustling piles on the ground
all of them abandoning the brave leafte
to shudder and bend to the cold north wind,
releasing its tenacious grip in spring
to sail to the ground and land soft
on the new greening
April
earth.
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