Waterfall Leaves

Breakfast nook near window bright a couple sits in shaded light As sun begins to warm their day, they rest.

First ray upon the maple’s crown to loosen leaf and tumble down The two, dressed up in nightclothes, they yet wait.

Then butter spreads on toasted breads; they sit together, sleepyheads As golden leaves beyond sheer curtains rain.

A trickle catches first the eye as sun beams wash the maple high
Then flutters from from fresh morning sun

Turns to flashing gush of gold releasing aged stems of old Toast held up in midair, they pause to look.

Cascades soon appear torrential; warm rays come forth so sequential Up-high limbs go bare-fingered in the blue.

For near a silent half-an-hour they observe this rare-seen shower That builds down near the base a golden mass.

This maple in its greatest glory sheds to them a secret story Youth flies fast, but these pictures you shall keep.