“The falling leaves drift by the window,
the autumn leaves of red and gold,”
a tune sung by Frank Sinatra, put me in the mood for autumn ponderings.
Sharing with you as the thoughts fly by:
Flaming papery shards burnt to a scratchy crisp--
Floating kaleidoscopes of yellows, oranges and reds--
Flying vibrant pieces of parchment gravitating earthward--
Flippant shreds of tree embellishments settling to the ground--
Freefalling wax papery scraps rehearsing their aerobatics--
Fluttering colorful debris delighting in merry-go-round rides--
Fragile remnants intermingling, forming loosely knit piles--
Fragments of mighty oaks forced into the atmosphere and back--
Fractured leftovers from past sun-filled summer days--
Frolicking foliage dancing wildly in tiny wisps of wind--
Frivolous flecks of decaying verdure appearing here and there--
Fidgeting scrappy leathery rags scurrying across the road--
Falling shapes flip-flopping as they twirl down, down to the ground--
Fiery shapely bits, as ashes from a flame,
Filling the dusty atmosphere with musty sweet aromas,
Flattening horizons of hills, rills and potholes,
Freeing the once green giants from their thick outer coats, and
Flitting pieces of spent adornments returning to the dust.
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