OCTOBER

There is a brook
as gold as the trees
the woods are in slumber

the only sound
the trickling of water
there is not a breath of wind

You can smell
the sweetness of the forest

as the sun shines
through the floral branches

the leaves begin to fall
and soon all will be at rest

The leaves caress
the forest floor

becoming a colorful carpet,
a tapestry
to walk on

as they dance
onto the earth
until there are
no more