“There are leaves across the skies, seemingly alive” Gun Roswell Leaves The leaves, which never fall, no matter spring, summer, winter or even fall They keep on hanging there, being for ever green, the pretties anywhere seen And then when the sun turns up to shine, against the coolest of blue skies There are vibrations of various kind, the other colours, seen just again the dust Even the very soft fluffiness of them reflected, against the blue up in the sky