Wet leaves form a multicolored collage,
On black pavement the hues are astounding,
Squirrels in trees launch a chattered barrage,
Their neighborly babble is resounding.

Swishing vortices craft an ambiance,
A deep sighing melancholy pervades
And it all draws a certain audience,
As the flora magically cascades.

I breathe deep on a gray misty morning,
With a sage maturity I relish
The subtle changing seasonal warning,
That my soul has oddly come to cherish.

I hear the tickle of piano keys,
As I am caressed by the falling leaves.

©Michael J. Donnelly 2016

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