(In Best Poems of 1998) Red, yellow leaves turned ashen gray
On that bright October day.
Will cold winds blow more, snow more, no more
Dancing Leaves?
Or, to ease my numbing pain,
Will you come to me again
Along with flowing, snowing, blowing
Dancing Leaves?
And we'll waltz to the autumn breeze,
Tango all around the trees,
Amid the swirling, twirling, whirling
Dancing leaves.