Looking out my window
to the wizened plum tree,
to the indecisive drizzle and wind,
almost thirty yellow leaves
dropped from their wet branches at once.
They fluttered and spun
on the short journey to the earth below
as though jumping from a plane
on a single signal.
The breeze continued to blow
in fits and starts,
but the air show was over.
Many leaves still trembled,
hanging from their stems,
but not one let go.