I've never considered myself much of a poet, so don't judge too harshly.  This is a little poem I wrote sometime in the early 1990s.
Leaf began her journey by falling from a tree,
She fell into a creek and wondered "What will become of me?
My brothers and sisters are still in the tree—I wish to stay."
But the water would have none of it and carried Leaf away.
"What silent schemer is Fate," Leaf cried, "to cause me such sorrow."
A voice replied, "Such bitter machinations you'll curse today and praise tomorrow."
"Who speaks?" Leaf demanded.  "And what know you of my pain?"
"I am the Creek," replied the voice, "swollen by autumn rain."
And so, together they journeyed, Leaf and Creek,
Neither friends nor enemies, but with common fates to seek.
In time, slow-moving Creek emptied into a much larger stream.
"This far I've carried you," said Creek. "Now my brother will fulfill Fate's scheme."
With a whirling and a churning Leaf poured into Creek's brother.
"Welcome," said Stream.  "Wither go you and what be your druther?"
"I go where you go, Great Stream, for I am a hapless victim of Fate."
"Do not curse Fate so readily, little Leaf.  Sometimes Fortune follows its mate."
"Mates!" cried Leaf.  "Fate and Fortune?  How can this be?
Fate would be crushed and Fortune multiplied if such was left up to me."
"Patience and you will see, for one more word will I lend,
Your course will many times change, just as do my waters at every new bend."
Sure as spoken words, Stream soon emptied into a serene, turquoise lake.
And quiet water enveloped Leaf, who wondered what of this to make.
But little time did Leaf have to look about and ponder,
before a beaver scooped her up and said, "I'm taking you yonder."
To his home the beaver took Leaf, and warmly lined his bed.
And expecting loneliness and despair, Leaf found her brothers and sisters instead.