Yellow-orange featherbed
At the foot of a tree
Leaves of glory
Still glorious on the ground –
A soft invitation to me
Fluffed 'round at the
Base of a tree.
Marvelous maple!
Bowed and humble
Brown, with almost
Absent crown for me,
Lowly me, to partake of.
Darker browns and
Rusted reds create
Maroon moods, and the
Leaves that lie, crispy,
Dead, provoke a
Thicker thinking in me.
Sadly solemn, sweetly somber,
And I the wiser
Consider things which
Youthful spring does not
Evoke.
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