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