Last Leaves

They who expect
    unchecked dominion
of their opinion,

who always seek
   to speak last,
by none surpassed,

may they await
    the fate of all
last leaves that fall —

and be the first
    thinned
by changing wind.

Those below
    nourish what will grow.

A poem, in poems. Seasonal.

Made . Brought in .

clear · 21° · SE 5 kt · only the sun and moon and stars

epigram