Like snowflakes on my tongue
and raindrops on my hand,
the pine needles fall to the ground.
They twirl downward to the earth and whirl in the wind
and before you can pick them up
they fall again.
The once green grass is covered with brown.
They came out of nowhere
without a sound.
It's the circle of life
this birth and death of trees and their leaves
like a new baby's breath.
For now we watch in wonder
It's a sign of the new season
Soon they'll be swept away for
a new rhyme and reason.
