Fall leaves flutter and swirl —raised to dance in the arms of a Spring wind;
settling them down at the base of the trees, where they were born.
Father Winter has gone.
His summer’s mistress awaken in moist dawn, not giving a damn.
Cuddling her offspring’s with sunshine –she sang them lullabies.
Coloring them with a promising growing up, with their Father’s pride.
photo: R.K. Garon