The Fallen Leaves Poem by Bill Galvin

They gather,
All crisp and yellowed and browned,
And are moved by the breezes
To blend and flow over one another
In a curling wave
That rolls across this gravel road,
And they make those dry leafy sounds,
Which all creates an image
Of foamy surf sliding up a flat sand beach,
Until the puff of air peters out,
And the leaves flutter down
To settle in a prolonged silence,
Awaiting the next brisk autumn gusts,
Which will move them eventually
To their final nesting place in the woods,
Where they will snag and hold
And decay and become mulch,
Under the cover of a cold winter mantle,
And continue the Natural cycle of rhythm
To nourish the earth that gave them birth.


Autumn 2016