When the air is crisp

And the leaves are gone

The tree’s bare branches

Call them home;

One-by-one

They pick their perch

Until the naked tree

Is clothed with birds;

A haunting song they do sing

Of warmer days gone by

A fond farewell

For leaves who’ve met their demise;

From bare branches

Where they do cling

Composing a symphony

They hauntingly sing