They are nearly bare now,
the trees.
Last week adorned in royal autumn robes
now cast aside like confetti
A bright colored canopy strewn on the ground,
the parade has passed and the heroes are gone
they stand still tall,
bare
branches reaching up into the sky
defiantly calling to the north wind
unafraid of the snow and ice.
Some will not see another spring
to wear green leaves again
they will stand
for the beetle and woodpecker--
though dead
they will support life
until they too fall like the leaves
for so many seasons before
to renew, restore and live again.
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