They fall in gentle spiral curls and
Are lovingly caught in the dark arms of
Asphalt - also by curbs, grass, windshields,
Summer wicker furniture - the wind gets
Envious and blows them this way and that -
Trippingly twinkling across these surfaces,
They land at a destination definitely not
Their final one - and crunch beneath feet
That can't wait to hear them cry, crackle!
Especially after being piled high and jumped in.
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