Puddles

The leaves fall
hitting my face,
like raindrops
escaping from the sky.

They swirl on the ground
the fair winds
causing them to
                         skitter,
               and
                                     jump.

The rough noise like that
of nails
caressing the concrete.
Jarring in its
comfort.


They pool,
like the rain,
in puddles of their own.
Urging me to kick them,
and let them dance.

The little child within
us all. Screaming with
delight
as my boots meet
leaves.

Some crumble immediately
under my feet.
But some are propelled
back into the air.

Free to be grabbed by the wind
and pulled into the cycle again.