Lost Cause

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

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