Waxed

[Wjames]

The changing leaves lie heavy
from all-day rain.
Each one hangs like a picture of itself,  do you need "of itself"?

not bumping into it's neighbor,
dancing, or baring it's underbelly
like yesterday. nice

Today, they pose glossy side up
[the side that looks like waxed supermarket produce],
silvery with polished rain, as if expecting company.

One drops to the ground, then another,
like daisy petals plucked
by the hand of some quiescent entity
buried deep inside its own mind.

Lovely fall poem