Cold weather has sparked, and kindled a blaze

That burns through the forest till the end of fall’s days

Simply smoldering at first on the tips of the trees

Before insatiably ravaging the whole of the leaves

Tingeing the hillside with colors of light

The orange and the gold ‘midst green shining bright

Then quickly fading away in a blink and a flash

Darkened to brown like the dying ember’s ash

Brittle and cracked like the tome’s dusty page

They flutter to earth with the onset of age

Leaving staunch oak and fair maple bereft of their crown

Verdant pine’s greenery alone to be found

But how odd that in the humble leaf’s passing

Is then that its beauty is so brilliantly flashing

But dormant hope still resides, even in death

Which will awaken ere long when fanned by spring’s breath

So let us still look for hope in the bitterest defeat

Which will soothe the deep hurt and make the gall sweet

For after the bare branch withstands the long cold

Is then the green shoot springs out from the old

 

Poem written by me, October 26, 2013.

-The Farming Daughter