Green leaf, turning yellow,
knew he'd end up in the furrow.
Still, he waited for the drift
whose upward shift
he hoped would lift.
Just as he was turning blue
a gust blew,
and away he flew,
oscillating to his rue.
You see; the leaf, he had no eyes,
he hadn't a clue whilst soaring the skies,
but the green leaf, whom the tree threw,
had come to bear a yellower hue.
Gently swirling with the current,
thinking not of past or future,
------------------ overture
[to be continued]