Doing battle with the autumn winds,
the fragile leaves present their colors.
They shake their pointed fingers
in a wild dance, then regroup.
In the end, there is no reprieve;
strength overcomes determination.
The forlorn maple tree shivers,
gives up all pretense of modesty.
I’ve watched this drama unfold
for days now as though I were
at a sporting event — rooting for
the underdog, though I realize
it’s truly a lopsided contest.
In the autumn of my years,
I too am buffeted willy-nilly
by the winds of inexorable change.
— Martha Golensky