N

She is past her prime

Her hills are turning gray

Tired, brittle leaves cover the ground

As Fall approaches the end of her days.

Filtering through the branches

Of the trees, now nearly bare

The sunlight tries to bring some cheer

To this annual season of despair.

Alas … all is not lost, for now I spy

A vibrant, crimson Maple tree

Her leaves still unwilling to let go

Just waiting to show her loveliness to me.

This sight gives place to faith and hope

She is only going to sleep

Until the season changes once again

I’ll have a lovely maple leaf to keep.

Nita Noble

10-15-19