It's raining leaves today.
They drift down by ones and twos,
the yellow and the brown,
leaving the green world behind.
The maples and the sycamores are giving up
the ghost, not all at once, but slowly
as the Earth revolves
around the sun.
The air smells of cinnamon
and the leaves crinkle underfoot.
The wind quickens, and
thunder rumbles in the distance.
More leaves tumble down.
Mother Autumn takes them by the hand,
tugging them toward her husband Winter.