dancing the Autumn death dance (rupp-remix)

with constant chorus of birds
the leaves plummet down
from thin, bare trees,
they twirl to the ground
dancing the Autumn death dance
beneath the great blue sky

the leaves seem glad at the going
(is there something I don’t know?)
sparkling in the November sunshine
they fill the air with gentle rustling

one, then another and another,
on they skim down from above
bedding the forest table before me
with comforting crunches and crackles

this gigantic death scene of leaves
does not smell of sorrow and sadness
rather, the earth is colored in beauty
and the leaves make music in the wind

why is this dance of death so lovely?
why do leaves seem so willing to go?
are they whispering to each other,
urging one another to be freed?

maybe, “you first and then I’ll follow”
or: “you can do it, go on”
supporting one another
in a call to final surrender

I have not yet discovered the secret
of the serenity of sailing leaves
every autumn I walk among them
with a longing that stretches forever
waiting to face that death-dance
and the truth of my own mortality