cold rusted leaves cling to wet branches

braced for a final fall

last dance before the earth swallows their life

to give back to next years new growth

memories of sun fill veins

pulse slowed to the rhythm of seasons

give way to slumber

as though winter wins the battle

as though the fight does not go on

frost will come over and over again

the cold cannot reason past it’s arrival

but roots will hold trees in place

waiting for the first drops

as light and life triumph

the bright gold a promise

that is always, always kept

hope