Jesień

It fluttered down slowly,
Palming the currents,
All colour leeched
By the harsh cold winds
Of the settling winter.

It rested on the ground,
Soon to be dissolved
Into bleak nothings;
To be trod upon
By the quick soles.

Many a moon phase
Steadily crept on by,
The stark barrenness
Rising into the dark,
Watching, waiting.