In the hush of autumn's breath,
leaves pirouette,
a silent ballet,
each one, a fleeting whisper,
unique in its descent.

Golden, crimson,
their colors bleed into the air,
twirling, spiraling,
a soft surrender to the earth,
where stories of summers past lie waiting.

No music plays,
yet the world holds its breath,
as nature's quiet choreography unfolds,
a delicate farewell,
to the branches that cradle them,
and the winds that guide them home.