The Leaves Change

The leaves change
as weather turns cold,
as autumn winds
bearing the smell of wood stoves
and decay,
swirl and dance their macabre minuet.

The leaves change,
a beautiful dying,
each day brighter, more vibrant
until autumn winds,
howling with winterous venom
rip the color away.

The leaves change,
a preparation, not for death,
but transformation
that laughs at death,
at winter,

certain
of spring.

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The picture was taken some time ago, right near the border of Rupert and Pawlet, Vermont. You can click on it for a larger version. That’s my faithful Isuzu Trooper far in the background, the perfect vehicle for a photographer – all toughness and glass.

Tom