Beauty Floats on Falling Leaves

 Beauty floats on falling leaves.
Who glide, tumble,
Whirl, and swirl,
Gracefully, or haphazardly
On their journey
Off their trees.
Leaves harbor
Niether fret nor worry
As they transform
Their green garb
Into clothing of red,
Brown or gold,
For their final performance,
For their first flight
Into the unknown.
Beauty stays
As they age
And crinkle
On the ground.
Beauty resides on fallen leaves
Who whither and die
On the earth
Where they lie.