When I was a nineteen year old girl, I had a vision in my head of a little girl playing in the leaves as I stared out my dorm window. I never imagined I would parent such a child. This is for my sweet birdie.
She chased after the golden leaves of autumn
Grabbing them with small, delicate hands
To raise them above her head
So that they could fall to earth again
Over and over this action she would repeat
While mounds and mounds of leaves
Gathered at her feet.
The symbols of changing time
Crimson, burnt orange, and gold
That turn their beauty to colors of mourning
Endless brown
Seen in the trees, the ground
Show so much more than is seen
And yet--reduce all thought to pure joy
Appearing in the merriment of the child
Moving through all the whispered meanings
Of shifting days
To celebrate ceaseless childhood
Alive in one bright autumn remembrance.