When the leaves fall from the tree
Will they fall on land or in the lake?
Ever floating free
Or the victim of a rake?
Under the bridge calmly
Or stuffed into a bag?
The leaf venturing ever softly
Or the leaf burned with the chaff?
What do these waters have in store?
He ponders only what is in his sight
As the leaf in the lake floats toward the shore
To be collected another night
