Dancing on the Wind

A crackling and tapping sound broke my reverie. A quick glance showed me that the sound came from the dry leaves of a nearby copse of trees that were spurred on by a gentle breeze and falling in a mad dash for the grassy floor. I was reminded of a song (or a poem?) I had heard long ago. I found it online.

COME LITTLE LEAVES
by George Cooper

"Come little leaves," said the wind one day
"Come o'er the meadows with me and play;
Put on your dresses of red and gold
For summer is gone and the days grow cold."

Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call,
Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the glad little songs they knew.

"Cricket, good-by, we've been friends so long,
Little brook, sing us your farewell song;
Say you are sorry to see us go;
Ah, you will miss us, right well we know.

"Dear little lambs in your fleecy fold,
Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
Fondly we watched you in vale and glade,
Say, will you dream of our loving shade?"

Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went,
Winter had called them, and they were content;
Soon, fast asleep in their earthy beds,
The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.

I'm not sure where I heard the opening lines of this poem before but it is very appropriate. When the warm air of summer turns into the tempered chill of October I await the explosion of color that occurs before the Fall.

Old Man Winter is surely approaching but, for now, he is still a bit further down the trail. For now, the kaleidoscope of color may have faded a bit but leaves still have time to dance and whirl about before they sleep.