Fall

If it began with white,
then I suppose it would end with brown.
Not black, not green
nor orange or yellow.
Brown.

If it started with white,
then we'd all be scrambling back and forth.
In the darkness.
No, go on, come back.
The light must be playing tricks in our eyes.
How could you be certain it's not the shadows?

I watched them peel off
one by one
one after one
until they are all empty,
hollow,
like the howl of merciless wind.

How could two things be so similar,
yet a world apart to the other?
Here I stand, at the end of a bank -
I am going to watch fall fall.