The Gardener

The largest, brownest leaf scuffles along the sidewalk in front of me, bumping the ground like
a lover's feet trying to catch the train
or a little boy desperate to score the winning point
and make his mommy proud.
The wind rips at my hair, as if it's begging and pulling me to leave this place with it.
As far in the sky as I can fathom, I see white birds- cranes, perhaps- sailing to some southern land
You guys, wait for me!
Goosebumps fill every inch of my skin. I can smell the autumn leaving.
I can taste frost in the air, and looks from my fellow students tell me
that we're not escaping the inevitable.
The smallest ashes fall. A faint memory crosses my mind
A quiet night in a dim cafe. Words that will never be spoken.
Other nights, louder, and bolder.
Laughter and unconditional loyalty.
All gone. I shake my head.

This time around things are broken.
Tables are turned, bridges are burned.
I hold on to what I am compelled to fix
Yet am pulled toward what I'm terrified to grasp

Maybe we're all leaves.
Maybe we all drift about on this ground
to the will of God's breath
us in all of our colors, with our own crunching sounds
failing to cling to our branches when He calls us.

I'm golden. You're scarlet.
You just happen to have been carried to the same pile
raked together by an invisible gardener, keeping His land in order
planning for the next spring.