The way they flicker and flow

As if unseen fingers run through them

Causing their dull lifeless husks to quiver and quake

The rattling sound of day crashing into dusk

As the cold creeps from the horizon

Bringing with it fat flakes of snow

All things fall, in the end

It is written here

Written in the leaves that fall

Fan out before me

Waiting to be crushed underfoot

Turned into mulch

Fertilizer for next year’s growth

If only our fall had such purpose

To pave a new path

Make the journey easier for the next generation

But we’d rather set the manual aflame

Then lend them a hand

We’d rather steal their voice

Than lend a listening ear

All things fall, in the end

It is written here

In our hearts

In our histories

In the leaves