With each meandering breeze,
crimson leaves dripped
from the melting maple.
A crowd of color is
forming beneath.
A circular red spread
like a ring, humble,
thankful embers of redemption.
I’ll gather them up
eventually, but for now
I pray for soft kisses
of wind on each
falling flame.
Gerald the Writer 
This poem would strike a chord with anyone who went for a forest hike on this Thanksgiving weekend. Thanks for sharing this poem, Jerry.
Happy Autumn Jasper!