I followed the course of a leaf today,
Bobbing along on its way to the drain.
I walked beside it for a little way,
Shoulders hunched against slanting sheets of rain.
Releasing its hold, it had fluttered down,
Fanciful bow to a colorful show,
From a maple tree - red, yellow and brown,
It whirled about now, in the gutterís flow.
Our small town is set in a hollow,
Off the beaten path for most of the year,
But Simpson Street is the road to follow,
When fallís fine foliage starts to appear.
No mere leaf, but an object of delight,
As it came ablaze in its final weeks.
Leaf-peeping tourists marveled at the sight,
Of the hillsides painted in vibrant streaks.
At the steel grate now, it hesitated,
Spinning about, caught up in an eddy.
For the red and yellow light, I waited,
And then crossed. Traffic had thinned already.
© RickMack (firstname.lastname@example.org)