>From Beginning to... 

When you see the leaves 
Falling silently in the wind, 
They dance throughout the air 
Until their journey's end. 
Landing softly on the grass, 
And without debate, 
Blown again by the wind 
Through the field's rusty gate. 
They roll into a drain. 
The leaves are swept away, 
Into a winding stream, 
For a new journey, and a new day. 
  
4/98 
  
1999 © Joshua Golden