| Red and orange. Brown and
gold. Proud and daring. Brave and bold. Dancing happily on the autumn breeze - Leaving stark and naked, the somber trees. Round and round they swirl and flutter; Loop-de-loop and joyful stutter. Full of pride and blissful scorn Laughing at the trees now shorn - Loud their triumphant tune Under brilliant harvest moon. |
The nippy air turns bitter
cold. Final judgement has been doled. There's no escaping nature's decrees. No postponing winter's freeze. To no avail they moan and mutter As down they fall on roof and gutter. The sterile soil they will adorn And not a tree will care to mourn. The breeze has died - the fatal swoon. Their moment gone - all too soon. |
Christmas 2000