I wrote this poem a few years ago. It's appropriate to the season, so I thought I'd share it here.
Mass for a fallen leaf
On the street I saw a yellow leaf that
a car had driven over, leaving a
tire print resembling a staff of music.
I looked around for someone to show it
to, but everyone was hurrying through
sheets of rain. I gave it my most solemn
attention for a moment. I could have
taken the leaf home and dried it between
the pages of a book, but I left it
at rest on the pavement. I saw this as
a minor act of love: I thought someone
else might see it, commiserate with its
flattened, tired condition, read the notes, and
take comfort – just as I did when I walked
off, humming its autumnal requiem.