Fall Away

Summer’s gone,

Those days we grumbled about the heat a mere memory.

Soon we’ll grumble about the cold;

It’s just a matter of time.

Until then

We’ll watch the leaves turn

From deep greens to brilliant reds and golds

To dull crumbly browns.

Released from the daily duties of growing leaves, they go bunjee jumping without a bunjee cord

And end their lives raked in a pile

Frolicking with children.

The leaves never grumble.

It’s not much of a retirement plan

But I guess there are worse ways to go.