It is long past the growing time now,
and though I lay silent in your bed
I still strain to give, to give a whirlwind
of colorful leaves to crown you;
to want nothing but to keep November’s
indifference from my plentiful harvest.
But these walls can’t hold back
the chill any longer (especially
since you keep the windows open).
My branches keep giving, giving,
but how could I keep you warm when
the frost is working so fast against us?
The season is changing in your eyes,
and you go out of your way
to kick up all my leaves.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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but how could I keep you warm when
the frost is working so fast against us?
particularly enjoyed that. this is very well written.
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