A Dervish of Leaves

Sometimes when I'm sad, the dead leaves
in the bed of my pickup get up on their own
and start dancing. I'll be driving along,
glance up at the mirror and there they'll be,
swirling and bowing, their flying skirts
brushing the back window, not putting a hand
on the top of the cab to steady themselves,
but daringly leaning out over the box,
making fun of the fence posts we're passing
who have never left home, teasing the rocks
rolled away into the ditches, leaves light
in their slippers, dancing around in the back
of my truck, tossing their cares to the wind,
sometimes, when I'm down in my heart.

~ Ted Kooser