the leaves are falling (second in a trilogy)

The leaves are falling,

On this windless night.

Alas by dawn,

They will be gone.

Drifted and forgotten,

Left to reveal the husk,

Of the lifeless tree.

But this night is now,

That morning then.

And, the leaves are falling.

Scattering here and there,

It doesn’t really matter,

For they will not be seen.

Trampled underfoot,

They will lie.

Helpless and crushed,

They will die.

Yet, the leaves still fall.

Turning and flipping,

They descend,

Upon this cloudless night.

Yet, who bears witness,

To this artful dance,

But the moon and I?

They are but,

Dark splotches,

On a black canvass.

Invisible to all.

So, the leaves, they fall.

Numerous in their lost cause,

The cold consumes them.

A death in vain,

As gravity decides their fate.

Not a cry,

Is heard nor given,

To define their end.

Left, the fruitless vine,

The only consequence.

The leaves have fallen.