
Hello Yellow, how good of you
to make an appearance before
Santa and his reindeer land.
I’ve missed you and your
colorful red and orange cousins,
your crunchy-yet-sunny
disposition, your earthly scent
as you hang, glide and tumble
to be collected by the magical
metallic click and swoosh of
yesterday’s backyard garden
rake. Didn’t we once gather
with your friends in a pile or
several for one last heavenly
autumnal celebration before
carols and flurries cascaded and
winter’s drifts and desolation
froze us in our tracks?
Now I remember us together,
surviving in a simpler, more
defined, orderly civilization.
You don’t need to worry.
As long as I am here, you
and your seasonal friends
will remain alive, constant,
distinguishable, and everlasting
… at least in my imagination.
A beautiful photo!
It’s easy to forget that trees turn color here, albeit much later than in the Midwest.
Your poem is great!
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I’m glad you like the photo and poem, Tom.
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