O leaves that whisper from a wind tossed vine
Holding firm against autumn’s frowning gale,
Thy fate is sealed. Is awareness thine?
Canst thou know that thy strength shall shortly fail,
And thou shalt be rudely tossed to earth,
To be trampled and crushed into the dust?
“0 poet, O creature of higher berth–
Where’s thy faith? To a leaf our fate is just:
We dance, we sing–and our colors! …Red
And there’s yellow and orange, brighter darts
Than Summer brought; for it’s now to bed
To awaken next spring with stouter hearts!”
by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 1, 1941
