Puddles in the street
How quickly does the summer turn
From green to yellow, red, auburn,
A mix of painted sun and sky,
Some wind and rain to make leaves fly.
They’ve gathered here upon the street
In glorious puddles wide and deep,
The leaves that leave the trees nearby
Bed down with rain, and there they lie.
Car tires plow straight through a pile,
Leaves treading water for a while,
Until they’ve rationed all their strength
To float a time and sink at length.