Late October

Carefully
the leaves of autumn
sprinkle down the tinny
sound of little dyings
and skies stated
of ruddy sunsets
of roseate dawns
roil ceaselessly in
cobweb greys and turn
to black
for comfort.

Only leaves
see the fall
a signal end to endings
a gruffish gesture alerting
those who will not be alarmed
that we begin to stop
in order simply
to begin
again.

<3 M. Angelou