Today I’m free. I invite my nephew for a walk. I take him to see how the town looks in this October end.

On a wooden bench,
brought by the wind,
a yellow leaf.

My nephew, Lucian, asks me from what tree did the leaf fall. I show him the lime-tree nearby. Afterwards we go to see other lime leaves. We pick up the most beautiful leaves, big and small, symmetrical or “crooked” as Lucian says. In the park, among yellow leaves, we can see an orange one. “Grandma, this is a lime leaf, too?” “No, this is a cherry leaf.”

We go to pick up orange, scarlet and brown leaves.

Swinging
on the wind blow,
a maple leaf.

My nephew likes maple-leaves best. There are all kinds of shades starting from light yellow to red-brown.

With excitement,
rarely split the air
autumn leaves.

After we pick enough leaves, we go home. In front of the gate, a big vine leaf. We take it. We from a funny face on one side of the vine leaf. We use two chestnuts for the eyes. As nose – a cherry leaf. The mouth three little pear-leaves.

“Grandma, my mother will like what we did, won’t she?”, he asks me. He doesn’t wait for the answer. He runs to call his friends to see his work.

Autumn is sighing,
copper tears fall
from all trees.

I remain near the gate. My childhood remembrances retrain me. I used to pick and admire leaves. But only autumn.


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