By Patricia Taylor Wells
The rain comes and washes away the summer heat;
Perking the air as the wind mops up the sky.
The day grows shorter and the Earth begins to shiver.
The green of leaves flows out their veins,
Revealing a splendid red or gold
That masks the death that is to come.
Each leaf holds on tenaciously,
Putting forth a brilliant fight
Against a Divine Plan to which it finally yields
In its gentle fall to the ground.