As the leaf falls

It's a signal to the world.
With its change to brown,
the crackled crunch beneath,
the present continuous.

The impending change rests,
on the baited breath of wind,
it is a truth of knowledge, seen.
If I were a leaf,
I would admire the constancy,
the expected fall, the infinity bloom.

Yet as regular as my tread may seem,
I am inconstant, I change, an irregular truth.