The color they had always been,

       hidden beneath bright green,

               had in October been revealed

                        so the world might see, might know

                               who in truth they really were.

And for a time appointed them

      they hung...golden in the sun,

               making little rustling sounds,

                         high vaulted in the sky,

                                whispering of secret things leaves know.

Then, one by one, they heard,

      and, one by one, let go...

               releasing from the place where they had grown,

                          sifting softly through their fellows

                                 in an unknown golden fall.

To some it was a joy,

     that swaying, tumbling flight

              that took them boldly on their unknown way

                          to be what golden leaves

                                 are called to be.

A reluctant few,

     pausing after setting forth,

              huddled in the arms of what was home,

                         clinging, still, to what they knew,

                                 less eager... and less free.

So in the unknown spiralings of life,

     we pause, some of us, we do...

            uncertain in some shelter we have sought

                         until a final gust of wind

                                  blows us on to destiny.




Jo Anzalone  Oct. 30, 2006