The sky invites
The sycamores to dance.
Bare branches
Bend and sway
Curtsying to one another
In proper fashion.

Meanwhile the leaves have flown.
They turn up around back
Loitering by the steps,
Rabble rousing and doing their wild dances…
Waiting for the night wind
to whisk them away.

Thankful that the leaves in the country just blow away…