
Walking by a park;
above, the motorway roars—
below, some leaves crunch.

Walking by a park;
above, the motorway roars—
below, some leaves crunch.

Tiny, red, bird-like;
migrating for the winter:
leaves flying off trees.

Autumn comes to town
flaunting her shiny red skirts;
toad stools seek a kiss.

Forest has fallen;
yesterday’s leaves, crunchy now,
cushion my journey.

Autumn to winter—
grim reaper rattled the door,
deciduous trees.