And They're Off

Like a marathon of runners,
The leaves race down the street
A few soon get distracted
By traffic, and retreat

Regaining their momentum,
They gather lagging ones
Who swerve into the fray,
Not willing to be outdone

With the wind upon their backs,
Around the corner, they scurry
Attempting to catch up
In a gust of bustling hurry

Down the road they plunge
Until they reach the wall
Where a golden trophy waits
For the wind who swept them all
---
November 2008