in the Fall,
I feel a call
to the leaves
not to rake
or gather
(though I will)
but rather
a burden
to honor them
I see them
floating down, winding
through the air
after an entire season
breathing in
while I exhale
and breathing out
what I need
to live
until they climax
in a burst
of color and texture
upside-down
exclamation points
on the landscape
and their final,
last gasp of giving
is to descend
twisting
and turning
through that same air
one final show
of elegance
and acrobatics
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