Maple, dressed in scarlet, dawn-
dappled, asks the nest of fawn-
blotted leaves beneath her feet:
“What is it like to wilt and fall?”
Wind, the roving rustler, bides
time and taunts the squirrel who hides
oval nuts, hard-candy sweets:
“Think you, Sir, I’ll not tell all?”
Starlight whispers to the moon
“Clouds, like tarps, are coming soon,
sliding rain and bitter sleet.
“Do you mind the shroud, the shawl?”
Listen: stay and wait and keep
watch on leaves beneath the trees,
squirrels digging treasures deep,
moonlight wrapped as if in sleep.