I first noticed a shiver-
“wind’s picking up some more.”
The sunset time advancing
each day, earlier than before.

Soon the fanciful leaves turned
yellow, red and brown.
Each tree imitating the sunset sky,
each leaf forming its crown.

Then the winds picked up,
too strong for its delicate soul.
Trees left barren and naked.
The sunset and wind, taking their toll.

Everywhere I walked,
I saw the streets paved with colors.
The crown no longer worn-
but deposed and tossed by the gutters.

Yes, revolution is in the air,
in with the new, out with the old.
A crown deposed, a leaf sullied,
A tree left shivering in the forlorn cold.

As autumn gives way to winter
and the tree looks close to death,
is this what fall is about- a glorious
swansong before the final breath?

Wait, I see the sun rising,
earlier than the previous day.
Fresh leaves reclothe the tree,
like it has always been this way.

Most days may feel like winter,
Yet I lie in wait for the spring,
knowing each autumn I cast off the old,
and see what new colors I can bring.