The Turning Leaves

The Turning Leaves


The leaves first turning from green to red now
Yellow, yet will beyond
The time we see them fall somehow
Become much more than litter on our pond.

The evenings grow so quiet one would guess
The frogs and crickets are
Gone, but we miss this emptiness
Only remembering before so far

The urgent callings, clamor, and the clutter
Of summer passing and
Autumn being born, only to flutter
And fade; but as these falling leaves withstand

Our sense of something lost and, gaining still
More after leaves have turned
With Fall, all color gone, we will
Preserve impressions of all we have learned.

The leaves are turning and they fall away
Yet moments noticing
These very changes day by day
Leave us discovered with their vanishing

Ironically brighter and more interesting.