Meditations on Trees

Mary Anna Kruch

I.
Last night’s frost caused the red maple
to rain its leaves,
stream gold and crimson panes
through tombstones of marble sky.

II.
Bark warms naked cores,
holds tight to living roots,
steadfast, hardy,
mindful of moon’s phases --
internal lights
to candle time’s passage.

III.
On its march toward winter,
the sky at dusk
morphs to branched profiles
split into bits of rose-tinged sky
before it makes way
for harvest moon.

IV.
Light has left the day;
navy blue inks twilight
to elegant black silhouettes
in a landscape
progressing toward Winter Solstice.