she in the leaves shimmer a fresh spring found

myriads of green, all in bud about to blossom

singing of all a scented symphony

he in the leaves winnow a withering ground

solitary stems, stark storm-scythed be-strewn

reading in all a rueful wrought rune

turning a leaf

playful or pensive 

their poetry

a wind's rustle

and thus we our moods in poems write

some shading dark and some glinting light