When Autumn Colours Called - By Dan MclLhenny

Sally never swept her well-weathered front porch when Autumn colours called 

It wasn't some form of rebellion; she just really loved the Fall 

And all the leaves that touched down became her natural wall to wall patchwork 

Some nights she’d step outside stocking-clad or in bare feet 

There she’d push the leaves around and around with her toes in childish fun . . . 

Feeling, some were brittle, loaded with crackle while . . . others felt silky smooth 

She’d even bend sometime’s to collect them and carry each kind inside 

Under the light of a magnifying glass she’s study their structure well 

. . . Thinking what kind of story they'd tell! 

She’d sprinkle leaves over her sofa and maybe a few in her car 

And of course she’d create different designs and make her favorite a maple leaf star 

Her neighbors couldn’t wait to rake them away or bag them for the dump 

Another sack of sadness carelessly carried, burned and buried as rubbish lump 

Don’t they see the beauty here? Instead they make leaves disappear! 

So . . . Now we must wait yet another year to watch this leafy show. 

This seasons a marvel of magic, so fleeting we have just a smidgeon of days 

To witness the beauty unravel from whence a tree each came 

Ah the bold and beautiful presence when attached or sent in flight release 

Some go cartwheeling across the pavement finding a pleasant resting spot  

Sally never swept her well-weathered front porch when Autumn colours called.

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