A poem for fall

Can you look at a tree
In autumn and not
be awed by nature
in transition?

Along the highway,
The one I always
find myself on, as
if I were lost, and
maybe, yes I am.
At least you wonder.
The bluff will take flame,
It will be splendor;
Soon, unbridled glory.

But today, it’s just
one tree, just before
leaf drop, standing tall.
Splendor on each branch.
It broke from the crowd,
the do it the same,
monochromatic
crowd that holds fast to
it’s leaves until color
escapes to another tree,
a tree open to change.
You see these along
the highway too. These
you don’t remember.

But color works for
you, and the tree,
because it’s the
way of transition.
There’s loss, then exposure.
You, tree, stand naked,
exposed, bare, and the
ones who don’t turn away
will see how your limbs
reach skyward. They will see
strength. They will know why
those leaves had to go.