Leaves of the Fallen Tree

Staring at this oak, this oak so old,
I look all around me, and see things of gold.
Gold, scarlet, brown and crisp,
Whatever you may call it, Autumn is this.

A cool wind of the mountain breeze,
Rides through the multi-jeweled colors of the leaves.
I stand on the ground crunching beneath my shoes,
Staring out at the sunrise, caressing the dew.

A new morning comes, with it a new day,
How is the world going to change? Who’s to say.
Maybe someone will learn to listen, or learn to speak,
Maybe someone will learn to stay strong and help the weak.

If we were to look out at the possibilities,
There is only one thing I see, lying ahead of me.
A new understanding, one that’s never known,
A new understanding of what’s to be shone.

That even though we laugh like we’re all proud and tall,
It is not too late to just watch the leaves fall.
Watch the leaves with such simplicity,
That someday we’ll learn to be like the fallen tree.