On The Leaves Outside My Window
Yellow carpet foliage.
Papyrus trills matted with rainfall,
pressed by stepping sneaker soles
and ironed by baby carriage wheels.
Ruffles lift with the wind,
catch its rush under loose edges,
bend to wistful provocations of flight.
But these leaves hold their ground.
Steadfast, stubborn like concrete.
Mark their sidewalk space
and weave Autumn rugs
from curbside to doorframe.
Here, a blanket to catch our footfalls.
Frail threads pile to cushion our heels,
cradle the weight of our hurry
as we grind our boots into its permanence—
Its life, a temporary thing.
A welcome matt for cooler days.
These leaves invite our stepping
until winter crawls too close
to warrant welcome strolls.