A Poem for Autumn

Chill morning air. Leaves still green,
though here and there,
a few yellows, reds, and browns.

My father taught me
how to recognize trees
by the shapes of their leaves.

With passing days, more will turn
and eventually fall. How will I know
the names when all the leaves are gone?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s