I sit here by my window watching
As autumn leaves go racing down the street.
Like hundreds of marathon runners and
The north wind comes blowing fast behind them.
Some are detoured for a moment or two
Until they get back on course with the others, scurrying to catch up
While some come to rest on the curbs, lawns and in the bushes.
To go no further, to be left behind in defeat.
Those that remain in the race
Go fluttering off to the south,
As blustery wind and rain drops
Urge them on to the end and their fate.
Englewood, Colorado 1/6/1991
