In this land of tropical green,
there is one tree timed to north lands.
Its leaves turn red from deepest green,
and fall as if to season’s plans.
They fall not by mere ones or twos,
but in wild, fluttering masses.
Inside, it gives one the bronzy blues
to starkly feel the year’s passage.
To see sunny-side branches nude,
and know the numbered days still left
for ever-redder multitudes
who suffer time’s — and wind’s — great theft.
No land is so foreign to me
that I can’t see home in a tree.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 
I am glad you are able to see some fall colors here 🙂 I have seen fall colors when I lived near Atlanta. They were spectacular.
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Smoky mountain if I remember correctly
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B.G.
Your poetry is an art of rich form, meaning, and style. Wow! What a richly loaded poem!
Thanks for sharing it! 🙂
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thank you
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Nice write!
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Very colourful
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