Pushup pastel orange leaves
Overlap the rust-rimmed ochre greens
Of others not yet fully turned, like unto
Unthumbed pages over which I and you
Have yet to pore, lover, because it’s
Less sun every day for this tree
And it’s just begun for you and me,
This fall, this just-past-harvest
Time of our lives, as we do our best
Not to freak out, not to lose our cools
While nature reminds us she can be cruel
But we’ve got deep roots, rings within rings;
We’ll weather whatever this season brings
In style, we’ll pass with flying colors
All the little tests we can’t help but put each other
Through, until our doubts come tumbling down
Like this autumn foliage we’re kicking around.
somethinks 