I caught the first of the falling leaves
buffeted like a butterfly in the wind
fluttering weak-winged to earth ..
I held in my hand that messenger of time;
Autumn is calling; summer is slipping away.
Winter was written in its veins ..
the dewy morning promised no more gilded days.
A swallow yearning to fly south rested under the eaves ..
I longed to see it return,
to the welcoming Spring …