Changes come like the transitioning leaves above. Beautiful as they slowly die from right to left or left to right. Their death personified by the changing of their color. A beauty, a beauty we gasp at. Appreciation found in a canopy of little dying souls above. The heavens rain tears down on them.



35 thoughts on “Changes

  1. Lovely. This reminds me of a poem I wrote many autumns ago, when I lived in Maine:

    A passion play of burning gold
    Blood red and chestnut brown
    As every leafy autumn tree
    Dons now her jeweled crown

    A rage of life belying death
    Burns out in a blaze of glory
    Another year draws to a close
    The climax of her story

    Beneath the twilight canopy
    Maine settles in to rest
    And batten down the hatches
    For the season she knows best.

    (I’m glad they didn’t turn you into fried chicken, OM.)


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