Last night, the tree shook hard;
In the raging storm, it bent double
Desperately trying to stay strong;
Toward morning, when the gale was too much to bear
Collapsing sideways, its trunk snapping hard -
The tree toppled over, drenching the ground in vivid colors.
What does one say about Nature’s work?
Why do colors arrive, why do they spill over?
Violence upon a tree, or boundless love?
A commonplace maneuver?
An embrace, a pull to the bosom?
Who can fathom the game the Eternal plays out?
So, here lies the tree - utterly dazzling, still colorful!
When I’m gone, what I leave behind -
Will it be as alluring, as beautiful?