16 November – Tipping point

Suddenly Autumn is conquered by fierce winds from the east
and pours out all her colour as she hastily retreats.
The canopy of gold that yesterday blazed strong
has been seized and separated and is almost gone.
The trees stand weeping their last remaining tears,
trying to remember there’ll be new growth next year.
And what’s left of all their beauty is spilled out on the ground,
a fleeting magic carpet of November’s lost and found.
Tomorrow I’ll look for wonder in newly-skeletoned trees,
but today I only want to feel Autumn’s farewell grief.