Her fleeting whisper weaves through the wind,
Swirling the final leaves like orange embers.
One by one they succumb to Her song.
With all their might,
They take flight.
A bystander loosens his jaw.
An elegant dance full of flourishes and backflips.
Designed to strike Her with awe.
It was no use.
The now barren branches waved a final farewell.
With their leaves gone,
They were alone,
And Autumn was moving on.
Their cores grew hollow
For in Her absence,
Winter’s frosty murmur was sure to follow.