the weather turned
seasonal overnight
the trees seem conflicted
the verdancy draining
as the last of the leaves
have decided to change
into a late autumnal
canopy of falling reds
each day as i arrive
another has given in
unwilling to accept
it should be winter

i wish i didn’t see
such a stark correlation
between the trees stubborn
refusal to admit defeat
and my own desperate
denials that i have also
reached this twilight
of youthful demise as
the hair on my chin
is speckled with those
unruly white patches
as winter casts itself
over a fool clinging to
the dreams of an oak in
the thrall of spring

the problem with getting
old is how it springs itself
upon you unwittingly as
you go about your routine
a little slower or with
new aches that add to the
old aches so surreptitiously
and then suddenly you wake
and cannot recognize the
face facing you from the
liar of self perception
as reflected in the mirror
the green drained away and
replaced by autumn’s touch
as your heart still cries
out for summer’s sweet embrace