© Barbara Grace Lake


At summer’s end my cycle starts
My leaves once green now rust and red
No artist’s pallet renders true
The wonder of my leaves in fall

A carpet laid below my crown
So softly drifting to the ground
For merry children’s gleeful play
At tossing leaves to watch them fly

I’m not bereft left unadorned
With branches tall and willowy
To dance on every friendly breeze
Or etch upon the morning sky

When all of winter graceful limbs
Induce a harmony of green
Returning life to smallest twig
Where tiny buds of white appear

Each day I watch their steady growth
A waiting game, my branches full
Each nub upon a bed of green
Until at last they open out

My hour of glory’s here, I sing
A radiant sun takes up the song
Reflecting back my petals’ fire
Explosive, blasting blinding white

Green leaves will follow, birds will come
Such songs they sing and nests they build
Till autumn turns my leaves to red
My cycled life begins again