On this windy hill

The  golden  leaves  are  forever falling in their own autumn.

Free falling everywhere

Then with every awkward gust,

One at a time

Each one will twist and  turn  towards the door.

Each one ready to make an entrance uninvited, at any moment……

……..Not now.

Although the  winds bring  leaves; still blowing through my open gate……..

…….NOW there is instead………

Wind in my face!

A fixed face (not mine) fashioned out of wire sits by the door

Collecting a leaf at a time in patient  (kindly) silence

In silent tune with the still swirling  wind…..

And yet still any free falling wayward leaf  can  find its way

To the step.

…….But  there is STOPS, caught, tamed,and

Now……………………………………..

A little gathering  wait at my door

In quiet reflection  next to each other

Jostling for space

Taking  a breath, but  tethered awhile

Ready for me to sort.

Later

In my own time!

Rosie