Falling leaves so mystical

Gliding across glass

Off to another place

To their final resting place

Where their color will drain

Until

They curl up

And brown

Drips of rain

Make their way

Upon

The glass

Making pretty tippy tappy sounds

And circles of small, medium then large

Birds flit and float

Enjoying the dark sky

Weaving in and out of the drops

They glide along to another

Tree

Resting there for a

Spell

They sing their song

All unique all different

The eagles screech and mark my way

Such a magical place

That I love to call

Home

But I can't stay all day

Not anymore

So with a final look

I walk off

Into

The woods

To find a new magical place

To stay

For awhile.