of autumn

a sonted watch
of leaf unlocked

seems morescore years
since such a foiled scene unfolded
extra-hemispherical,
interequatorial,
cheating paid back in full

leaves hover about
rolling, meandering,
cushioned in
ordered visible sinuosity
some kind of, um,
plain matter of fact existence made visible.
most leaves flit by though -
thin drawn out swirls
or tight-crimped screws unperceived

so now caught up
dressed down
something other than just leaf is shed:
light, tears, blood...

is all motion in general,
the flow of the world's character
borne of infinite quiescence?

all is motion in general,
the flow of the world its character
and yet it is borne of infinite quiescence.

all acoiled round
frizzly crepe sound
waging through another autumn