The trees are lovely,

          green, red, orange, gold, and gone.

         Then they are naked.

Leaves parade across

        the pale blue sky with bright pops

      of color. They dance

With the wind, they are

       skilled in the art of movement.

                    A foxtrot here, a

Waltz over there. The air

            is alive with the sound of

                        dancing foliage.

Once the leaves have left,

           the woods are bare and the sky

       has ceased to blush.

Spring shall soon arrive,

           the trees will explode with life

  and likewise shall I.