Autumnal Musing

Mid-meadow strewn with persistent daisies
and purpled flowers midst the crimsons and golds of fall,
a lone maple stands tall and proud.
An elder tree, trunk thick and gnarled. Reaching arms
stretch as if to give sweet hugs to all
in its domain. Towering over its neighbors,
dwarfing even the arrowed pines.

All is still this early morn as the sun tinges the sky
with autumn's glow, Not a flower petal shivers in the cool.
The greens and golds of the surrounding forest
replete with evergreens and birches quiet; as if waiting.

And yet, and yet--
the leaves on the maple dance
as if to internal muse.
Perhaps its roots dug deep and well,
react to songs sung elsewhere, hearing
the music we only wish we could hear.
A lone leaf breaks free to fly.