The Fallen

Here and then gone.

They are the Fallen

and the Begotten.

And I see them sift

the air that carries.

Crackle, pivot,

Their bodies freefalling,

like drops upon Earth.

Simple and true and heard.

Timeless,

like baby patters.

To the wind we look,

shifting so slightly,

and rustle-rustle they go.

Make us smile at their passing.

The leaves know that we know

that they know

they are the Begotten

and the Fallen.

Gone and then here again.