Golden Drift Poem by Micron Jan

Leaves turn gold and drift from trees,
Dancing lightly on the breeze.
Whispers of summer slowly fade,
As sunlight threads through amber glade.

They twirl and spin, a fleeting flight,
Catching moments of warm light.
Blanketing paths in burnished hue,
A golden sea of autumn's view.

Softly falling, soft they lay,
A quiet gift of the shortening day.
Each leaf a sigh, a fleeting dream,
Rustling gently in a sunlit gleam.