Autumn

In the brisk and bracing breeze

The trees perform their year’s strip-tease.

Shimmy-shaking bits of bling,

The golden leaves first flutter, fling

Themselves upon the floor;

Bronze ones, brown ones, then some more,

Until (so skimpy! tiny! brief!)

All that’s left is one sole leaf,

Which with a flirty little fall

Drops down to earth, revealing all.

And now the trees, completely bare,

Dance naked in the winter’s air.

 

 

 

 

 

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