How full we become at autumn’s end
our red, yellow and orange nature,
give no hint to what we will become
how we will fall to the ground
dry up and blow away
snow will take its place on barren branches
turning our trees to colder heavens
nothing remaining of the brilliance they once held
but save your tears for weaker creatures
because when the swell of the sun peaks again
and the dark days are over
buds of our legacy uncovered by melting snow
will grow and wait for autumn’s end