This poem is courtesy of our friends at Elkinte.com
Soon comes the eve whose dawn shall be autumn
Where the woodland sheds all, to be raked and forgotten
With damp leaf puddles on each road and lawn
Summer’s lush livery too soon will be gone
Gray and grotesque is the coarse flesh of bark
A lichen clings tightly, and the moss becomes stark
Chilled winds circle tightly, sweeping left, brushing right
And cry as they caress every eave in the night
Crisp crunching of footsteps upon the tree’s color guard
Pounced upon by little children in great heaps in the yard
Slowly pummeling each particle back into the earth
Or placed in black bags, to line the street with their girth
Or perhaps burned en masse in an October pyre
The unmistakable scent of maple, ash, oak, and fire
Surrounded by people, staring at flashes of gold
As it crackles and sparks, the season tightens its hold
A family of jack-o-lanterns guards the front porch
Lighting the steps for masked ghouls, and orcs
Every last candy corn now has been spent
We put on our scarves as the last leaf descends
Every avenue lamp shines upon branches bare
Those nude, quiet structures tower shamelessly there
Until the time of spring, when their garb reemerges
And the unrelenting snowfall ceases its surges
Again we will understand the tree’s not met her end
As we take comfort indoors, where hot tea is our friend
But in spring we will see leaves repopulate the boughs
The woodland shall live then, just as it lives now
Photo by Aaron P. Kittle ©2015
