Leaves are Rustling

Perfect days are coming
when I can see color for miles
if I just go a little bit
outside the city limits.
Millions of leaves preparing
a splendid celebration
of color and sound
calling me to remember
Saturday afternoons,
diving in and rolling
through piles of leaves
gathered in the yard.
How did I not hurt myself then,
I did not know any better.
There isn't anything better.
Listen to the leaves
With every breeze whispering,
singing, shouting, pausing
suddenly still, waiting
for a response, then again calling,
Trust the wind, release yourself
from the safety of branches
on which your life has grown.
Let the child dive in again!