A ditty to my Park in Fall

I thought I'd write an ode

To the red maple,

Its red hair, yellow brow, green chin

Walnut trunk that such colours hid.

Then I sighted the pin oak

that did show me 

all those colours 

in a single leaf!

The Northern oak 

in bright Fall light,

is a web 

of spun gold.

What is happening?

My head spins -

I see a painter's palette

Where there used to be green.

This is Fall, I remind myself;

you know, when leaves fall from trees?

But they don't just fall -

They pirouette and spin and twirl. 

And smack me, occasionally,

on the cheek.

Fall is old age, right?

Remind me, 

isn't this supposed to be decay and rot and -- 
time to leave?

Oh, I don't know anything, 

it seems.

This beauty, 

this gorgeous letting go ...

In such a rainbow of surrender,

I too, some day, would like to go!

© Manreet Sodhi Someshwar