The maple tree changes
Into a bouquet of gold and orange
Like a sunburst sunset
Capturing my heart and my sense of wonder.
What tells the tree to change its leaves?
What warning has it been given that winter will soon draw near?
That soon will come the time for slumber and wait for spring?
I study each leaf, the ridges, the pattern,
How the green color has vanished like a chameleon
Replaced by mottled spots and gradient colors.
God’s craftsmanship amazes me like nothing human-made ever can.
A sharp breeze blows past me
Whisking up leaves from the branches
Carrying them far overhead and off to scatter upon the distant hills.
I silently wish that the wind would let the leaves be
Let the sunset colors remain
That the tree might stay this way forever
And let me soak in its beauty every day.
But things do not stay the same
They continue to change,
And so the wind continues to rake the leaves away
While the maple begins its slow start into slumber.
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