Yellow Falls

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 Yellow Falls

Yellow explodes in my head

like morning sunlight.

Long arches of gold leaves sweep

and bend to the ground.

I am the bride of winter.

My canopy waits.

Great gusts of wind slam the elms,

the  locusts and ash.

Swirls of yellow leaves spin like

twisters of color.

Grounded oak leaves are solemn,

authentic and true.

They send a quiet message:

Oak, oak.  Honest oak.

Maples hang on to their leaves:

Red, red.  Wait for red.

Yellow rolls over my eyes

and colors my mind.

I take winter’s arm and walk

bravely into white.

 

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1 Comment »

  1. Heidi said

    I love this poem. But I am not ready to walk bravely into white. I prefer to linger with the swirling yellow and red!

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