DRIPS LIKE GOLD

-by Michael Jerry Tupa

I watch falling leaves spin; no sound they make.
drips of golden silence form a spreading lake;
a rising tide gathering round the trees,
yellow and brown waves twisted by the breeze,

I need to go, but I linger a while
the bright sun winks, blesses me with its smile,
I hate to turn my back and walk away,
but duty calls; only the birds can stay

(Appeared in Wilderness House Literary Review, Summer 2014)