Ode to autumn

Rubrum maple

Stare straight up at flames on blue canvas. Stare straight up so long that your neck hurts. Wait for the breeze to rustle limb and branch and leaf. Wait for it.

Wait some more.

A single leaf falls And then another and another. Sparks from natural fire that warm my soul.

(It’s been two years since I’ve seen a North American autumn. God bless it.)

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