Glide down, russet brown.

Settle gently on the ground

In leafy silence.

Dark forces come to

Seize his crown, but the king stands

Strong and won’t go down.

Leaves fall down from ash

And oak, to curl up brown and

Burn with curling smoke.

Glossy wooden globes

Like nuts in white nougat prized

From spiky coatings.

Strange elation’s found,

Catching leaves from trees so they’ll

Never touch the ground.