My leaves turn
from envy
to shades of dying flames.
They dance and dangle
to a concerto played
by Fall’s tyrant orchestra.
The last leaf
....... f
.........a
............l
..............l
................s
and a s-k-e-l-e-t-o-n
I am amongst them all,
baring and feeling more
then the sun's scorn!
Winter—
my acrid friend,
greets me with her
solidified utterance, draping
her icy gown
upon my skyward tendrils.
And she hides
in the mist of her breath
the sun
waiting to exhale
Springs gentleness.
Petrified, I am held
in her acrimonious embrace.
Tracey Hardie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winters-edge/
