a sugar maple
after the first hard freeze
knows the essential
& lets everything else
go
releases red
to run rustling
in front of wind
we call it falling
but the core stands
bare
the stripped simplicity
of a monk
one more layer
shrugged off
with casual asceticism
Hi Susan. Really like this one, anthropomorphising trees always works for me! I wasn’t convinced about “bare” being where it is, but it’s grown on me.
Hello, Paul! Glad yoy liked thi–still not sure myself about where “bare” is😉
nice. i enjoy how the physical form of the poem echoes the content. stripped simplicity… delightful.
Jane–thank you!
I’m a sucker for trees and asceticism any day! Very well done. Leo
Oh, Leo–thank you!
Love maples, love fall, and love this and how you get so much more out of it than maples and fall.
Thank you, Georgia. The lessons we learn from trees.
Maples, I’ve had a fondness for them since childhood. Love ’em. Praise be my favourite tree!
They are my favorites too😉
The maples where I live are doing the same. It’s neat how their yearly ritual can be described with such lovely, poetic words.🙂
Thank you, Sarah.
I really like the rhythm of that penultimate stanza. If you were looking for us to “feel” the falling leaves, you succeeded.🙂
Thanks, Jeremy–that is where I was going!