Time to shine

That season’s here — 

The one where all the maples 

Start turning, green to red; 

Stand, brazen by the street, 

Shouting enchantments to the passersby, 

Parading like sirens till they drop their leaves 

To stand naked, dark, invisible in the cold. 

We, too, have seasons where we shine 

And others where, invisible, 

We hibernate — sometimes against our will — 

But then emerge refreshed, renewed, 

And ready to shine again. 

I wonder: do the trees accept 

Their losses as ungraciously as we do, 

Assuming permanence, 

Or simply bow their heads and smile, 

Knowing their time to shine will come again?