and when it rains
the leaves stain the sidewalk
with burgandy chocolate bruises,
evidence of last stand against
the shifting seasons,
autumn's reluctance to give way
and the laws of gravity that require
the pummeling raindrop
to dance itself down to the ground,
as water swollen worms string out
on top of pavement
like pruned pink flesh
burgeoning with rainwater.

and when it rains
I know that eventually,
all seasons change.