Birch tree had given birth to a bud.
From its twig had tweaked a letter-like
leaf having no need first like murky mud.
Then it became safe harbor for insects.
And constant inspiration for painters
because of constantly changing colors!
But now wearing rusty russet ready to fall.
It was wearing green, but not now.
But the artful autumn must bear some
message to typify it's coming of age.
So, leaflet left out of this listless leaf
offered a letter to make my life better.
I have not known you well, but what I do
know enrapts me, like a song sung far away.
I can't listen to words yet, but what they
say dangles softly on haven where I must go.
I see you furtively, flushing, your spirit full everywhere.
I note the sheen of your lustrous hair and wish I smiled with your smiles.
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