A View From The Oak Leaf
by MFrostDelaney

Green in summer, orange-brown in fall,
I wait for thirty-two degrees, for frost,
remember summer breeze that has been lost,
and know that winter brings my death, that’s all.
So while a season leads to my decline
I breakout amber gold and honey hues,
a fire-orange signaling the news
I’ve saved my beauty for today. Incline
your senses to discern how green of youth
is captive of the limb, the guarding tree,
how turning ochery will set me free
to drift, to seek some other final truth.
Perhaps my turning brittle in the end
prepares for life a season’s yet to send.



 

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