This order feels all wrong.
It’s not been cold for very long,
But snow’s already fallen on the ground.
The bottoms of the trees
Reflect a silent winter’s sound,
But multi-colored canopies
Still rustle in an autumn breeze,
And, slowly, leaves are drifting down
To land upon the snow.
A graceful beauty’s white and brown-flecked gown
Has warped the seasons’ flow.
Its soft anachronism
Leaves my heart aglow
Yet fearful of a harder schism
We may unknowingly have crossed.
What if there’s no returning
From where the seasons’ rhythm is lost?
What changes will we still be learning
Long after all the harm we’re wrought?
Perhaps they will be greater than we thought.
Mom and I were in Wisconsin last weekend, and we encountered what I thought was an interesting juxtaposition of autumn and winter. Snow had already fallen, but many leaves hadn't fallen from the trees yet. It made me think about the increasing environmental changes we've been seeing in the world, and where they might be leading.
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