That’s what they call it.
When we in the north
find ourselves in shirt sleeves in November.
It feels like borrowed time.
A chance to finish up fall chores
that we thought would be missed.
A chance to walk comfortably
amidst the fire colors and smells of fall.
Like the leaves from this maple tree
outside my front door.
Colored fire red and gold
fallen in the pattern of the tree
with shapes and hues that simply insist
you stray from your path
and swish through the colors
almost like water.
These leaves are making a grand and colorful exit
blowing now
even onto lawns carefully tended.
They don’t care. This is their time
to dance and delight
to swirl and shine.
They’ve stayed faithfully on the tree
through storms of spring and summer
offering shade and glorious fresh air.
But now is their time.
This is change, you know?
Leaves in their brilliance
are letting go.
Are showing us perhaps a different way to be.
Not to resist, but to fly where the wind takes them.
Radiant, free, glowing
and by God it seems like
those leaves are enjoying themselves.
Most especially as they tumble and drift raucously
onto unnaturally immaculate lawns.
And maybe, if we find ourselves uneasy with change,
the best remedy
is to revel in these moments of warmth
get out there, and roll in brightly colored leaves
until their radiance and their freedom
remind us of the playful side of change.
