By RJ Traub
We watched you dancing in the gales
that ushered in the cold,
frenetically, yet gracefully,
you leaves of green and gold,
the sunlight on you crimson leaves
breathtaking to behold
as jauntily you danced all day
to celebrate the cold.
Your young trees, barely trembling now,
look prematurely old.
They could not match your whirling pace,
and swiftly lost their hold.
Like tropic birds you streaked, your plumage
crimson, gold, and green.
Short was your flight. In frigid night
you lie dark and unseen,
tomorrow to be swept away
without a backward glance.
But life and death met yesterday,
embracing in a dance.
~ Rita Janice Traub
Category: Poetry