a black and white autumn

a question of decisions

The last warm evening summer haze
sings a nocturne
for the drying leaves
they drift in quadrants
to still warm asphalt
placing a mandala
on black tar,
I cannot read what this portrays
that it spells out words or patterns
In my humaness
would I misunderstand ,
only the magpie knows the truth of it
but;
He could never tell
unless His tongue were split,
head cocked in supplication
awaiting my decision
you are the reason,
His look imparts
this is the end of summer
stay or deliver
if there is to be a judgement,
the beady dark eye winked
it must seemingly be, cartesian ?
thus He remains whole
and awaits the coming season