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