Color Tour

The buses full of tourists jammed the lot.

They’d come to see the trees and be beguiled.

A woman pulled her window down and smiled,

A balding man leaned out and took a shot.

They cheered the flaming yellow and the red.

Great flares of orange drew their soft applause.

Thus humankind has done without a pause,

This honoring of dying and the dead.

But no one greets the browning when it comes,

When sunless days’ decay feeds nascent growth.

Perhaps the colder weather chills and numbs;

Perhaps they miss fall’s silent, sacred oath.

Praise color if you like, the bright fall sun.

In dark and out of sight the work gets done.

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