She Wept For Death

She wept for death

All the beautiful maple trees

The white oak chattering with chipmunks

Naked and shivering in the cold

At first delighted with the golden and scarlet fires of Autumn

Now, like a child who reached for the flame

She is wounded by the burnt, brown desiccation

Littering her summer playgrounds

Peering up at the brooding grey skies

Accusingly she asks of them

“How could you?”

But the wind just shakes his shaggy head

Whispers with a dry wisdom

“Ask the earth worm.”

But she does not know the language of Air

Remains deaf to his blustery secrets

Even as seedlings snuggle warmly in a bed of loam

Beneath her winter boots


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