I must go outside again
to count the leaves fall :
in their careful circled way.

I mark for now
their gentle rotations
as they envelop me.
Holding themselves
more gently than me
whilst occasionally
letting themselves
fly float upward
then coast downward
in their final whispering
kissing the ground.

They're piled now :
a first draft
ere the rearranging
that takes place -
even when
my half circling feet 
disturbs them
they find their shape again.
Until that wind swept day
when they disappear
ready to be revived again.

I may be some time.