Her eyes watching where the leaves go / And she says "wait and see.”

I’ve always preferred the sound of Autumn: the way she rises on the tongue, the way she settles on the lips and remains, in a whisper of leaves in the wind.

Fall is final; it drops like a stone And knows where it leads.

Autumn is wistful. She has a long memory And thinks of her lovers.

Fall is a cold October night Under a blanket pierced by stars.

Autumn touches me softly Her eyes watching where the leaves go And she says "wait and see.”

Fall is faithful to a fault; never misses a beat.

Autumn runs around the world, loving the lost and she loves to tease.