Circus Circuit
Frees a leave, by the autumn slained
Slowly gliding, down from a tree
By the hot-cold breeze, of the wind strained
Thought the tree, it will never see the leave again
With mock and laughter, dances the wind
Cheering and soughing, amused of its own game,
Without acknowledging, who it causes looses or wins
Once here, there is no one, whose resistance did not once fail
After all, the leave arrives softly at the ground,
And the tree, waiting to gain some from the ken
Yet the wind keeps on blowing, with its lecherous sound
And eventually, they encounter each and every summer again