Parade of Colour
The nicest part of autumn has come,
when leaves all change their coats.
The trees should have a grand parade
with colours deserving of floats.
Instead, they stand, firmly rooted
-
waiting for us to see
Crimson, orange, gold, rust,
and more - for you and me.
The oak's brown; amber and flame;
and some a shade of cream;
All highlited by the blue of the sky
and the balsam and cedar green.
They boast! Why not? It's once
a year -
and none would want to miss
The spectacular show, rehearsed for years
and none, it seems, better than this.
Soon they'll spiral to the ground
and mix like a grand Monet;
Autumn, the season for artist and poet
and cameras, on a sunlit day.
Joan Adams Burchell
September 18, 2004
(copyright)
