The
trees have mostly stayed,
but
their leaves have bent with age, many
dislocated,
even –green,
to
yellow, to paling red –while I
have
remained fixated on the thought
that
these trees, my trees, outside
the
window frame, look like rows
of
traffic lights –programmed
to
make the color change, from Summer’s
Go,
to Winter’s low, Falling to a Stop.
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