Leaves

Awakened by whispering  leaves

Scurrying across the street

(Thousands of intrepid things

Scampering on tiny feet),

I wondered what they hurried from

Or rushed so eagerly to meet.

With morning came the chance to ask

Of any leaf remaining

What bade them run in dark of night

And what on them was gaining?

Now rustled only arbored leaves,

And they were not complaining.

~ Dean Robbins