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A cascade of yellows
came to follow
me today.
From
the
out
side
of a chest-
nut tree cover-
ing it’s bay. Although
it went unnoticed by
a multitude of folk.
The way it chimed
profusely I could
swear it to me
spoke;

“Here
my fronds offer
our platitudes in the
inked half of the year.
In the blondness is our
gratitude before they
sink unto the rear.
You will find
within
the


fall


that you’ve made a fallen friend.

And green beginnings
change just like flaxen leaves.

Yet do return
aft gloomy season’s end.”


© poormansdreams

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