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The boy caught in a dizziness of leaves,
Flinches as colors fall from wind-clogged eaves
Shouts as their shadows race across his sleeves.
Runaway brightness dances with the air..
The child claps for their freedom unaware
Their ride for sky has stripped the landscape bare.
someone who speaks leaf language should explain
Trees have no power to take them back again,
For beauty blinds young eyes to dark and rain.
The boy turns merrily around and round
Heedless of helpless whispers from the ground.
He does not know some things are autumn bound.
Empty tree shapes blowing upon the hill,
Sing him no hint of the November chill.
Because for him, time never has stood still.
Sandra Fowler
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