It is as if the world turns and looks
when the last of autumn flutters to the ground,
a moment suspended in time--
like the setting sun's tenacious will.
Twirling circles in air, with conviction,
sinking in a downward spiral
spin and float and plummet!
play with my heart.
I stand still
I hold my breath--
for the landing marks an end
to unending groves of red and orange,
butterflies dancing to a radiant breeze
and drizzles of magic.
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