[On the Commonwealth Avenue Mall; 10/31/09]
Mischievous winds tuck fallen leaves into our pockets.
We give them to sales clerk thinking it's money,
pull them from behind our ears like magic tricks.
They turn up between the pages of the newspaper,
in the cupboard among the tea cups,
scattering across the floor like mice.
The overnight rains will subdue them,
plaster them onto streets and sidewalks.
Then they'll dry up and blow away,
only their tannin imprints left to surprise us.