Rejoice
The leaves linger, sparse now on tree limbs, lazy on this summer-like day in the falling away time. My tree looks almost dead, but no, just tired. Its leaves won't blossom into red and yellow bouquets. Beyond are some quite spectacular maples blooming with death, gorgeous in orange, gold, as Autumn chills and kills. Until we reach December, ironically a reason to celebrate Solstice, the sun's steadfast climb, or rather, Earth's orbital tilt to Spring.


I was hoping someone would write a poem about the beauty of the leaves and you did. Thank you.