The storm today turned the Maple leaves inside out.
Blowing strong from the South, swirling, gusting,
tossing birds about.
Bending, twisting limbs in a sort of rout.
Winter storms are worse, but then bare branches reduce the force -
Now, in June, leaves are like sails hauling an anchored ship.
I watch, and wait for windfall slip.
July 2020
A tree through all seasons
Stark winter bones reveal deep within a scruffy nest of sticks
mid-way one day in May the leaves pop out full and green overnight
then red flowers sprinkled like cake decorations the red morphs into pink,
below branches emerge yellow clusters, the birds take cover
hard to say what's in the nest, a jay I'll bet.
The pink wings turn to blush and fade. The yellow trailing gold spangles caught in morning
glinting bright bathed in August light.
A lull and dust, leaves shady rest,
Still to come undone.
August 2020
I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a maple tree...
mid-way one day in May the leaves pop out full and green overnight
then red flowers sprinkled like cake decorations the red morphs into pink,
below branches emerge yellow clusters, the birds take cover
hard to say what's in the nest, a jay I'll bet.
The pink wings turn to blush and fade. The yellow trailing gold spangles caught in morning
glinting bright bathed in August light.
A lull and dust, leaves shady rest,
Still to come undone.
August 2020
I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a maple tree...
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