Gracefully

The sound of a wind chime is
Seen in gracefully falling leaves
As they fall to their final resting place
Before being blown skitteringly
Along the street south and west
Sounding like a crackling fire that is
Being alluded to by their journey to
Their graves in gutters to be trampled on,
Scooped up, thrown, crunched under
Boots that have come out of hibernation
Every year around the same time as
A sweet smelling reminder of rejuvenation
Through the final attempt at
Reassurance in the bursting colors
Blinding you leaf by leaf when you
Look up and down as they fall like snow -
Perhaps as a warning of what's to come -
Shortly thereafter their everafter in a
Crisp whiff of this life cycle picked up
In all sizes of fingers, embraced and
Released over and over again.
They do not grow tired of the attention -
Collectively or individually even when pressed.