Nothing Gold

The tree is a picturesque snapshot of change

Leaves like brushstrokes

Seamlessly blending green to gold

As if God changed His mind halfway through the painting

Spring to fall in a single frame

An arboreal drama unfolding in slow motion

Summer’s golden sun has passed,

Nature’s first green, and her last.

Only a matter of time

Before a web of tangled empty branches cuts open the sky

But why?

Its bark is tired, worn

Branches stretch before sleep

Trees put on their most glorious show for death

Leaves like sparks suspended there,

Float on empty autumn air.

Red, orange, yellow, gold,

It’s a wonder the dry branches don’t combust right then and there

It glows with sunlight, and the promise of sleep

I can almost see the leaves morphing,

Branches drooping, colors floating

As a soft breeze tousles the treetop,

Eden sinks in soft relief

As golden leaf subsides to leaf.

Insects crawl from beneath the peeling bark

The whole of nature prepares for winter sleep

Inside the trunk a ring solidifies,

Another year of growing, aging, letting go

Branches stretch in quiet adoration

Adoring what? I do not know, nor does it matter

It stands, a silent breathing monument,

To change, and quiet, and the wild intent.

Of trees, and stars, and people, to move on

To go another year without control

Of leaves or plans that could fall or fail

To let them fall as slowly as they will

The sun shines on fallen leaves just the same

And tangled branches let in light

While nothing that is gold can stay,

With dawn comes new beginnings, every day.

Fireworks