the trees of the grove start their yearly dance
I can hear them rustle and see them twitch
with
anticipation
like a case of nerves that settles in, while waiting in the wings
an unknown metronome clicks
and
their performance starts
the first act you may miss, if not in your seat
as colors peep through the green
red, orange, yellow, brown
autumnal hues slide and mingle their way through the bushy boughs
more each day
the second act is quicker, an allegro pace
the rain and the wind accelerando the pace
quite a show
bravo
the ash leaves trickle down from their lofty heights
the dogwood’s leaves pierce their shower de côté
flashes of crimson mixed with marigold
the maples bring their performers spinning and swaying perfectly
adding texture and stateliness to the dance
the torrent of leaves is brief, before the final movement
quiet, slow, lento
the leaves fall with
almost
not a sound
to rest.
the sagacious bee 