By Scott Bailey © 2013
Bright flakes of light in dappled leaves
that float on down
where saplings grow
and settle low
And earthy scents rise in the air
As underfoot
leaves crunch and fold
red-brown and gold
The rusty fence that holds it in
it holds us too
back from that time
when we roamed free
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 