Deciduous 2020
In North Hollow we know
it usually happens this way.
September meanders.
A solitary maple
in Hubbard’s meadow
transforms red before we detect
any changes in the canopies
hovering the Hollow’s dirt roads.
The air chills. In creeps
October. Kaleidoscopic
colors stain the Hollow’s sky
while the maple in the meadow
taunts us, poised
leafless and alone.
But this year September
does not stroll slowly,
October does not slink in.
Autumn explodes all at once.
Orange, yellow, red swirl
above our heads, below our feet.
An urgency floods
the cool air.
Winter’s icy breath
impatiently lurks,
ready to pounce, to bury
us permanently under
isolation and gloom.
The vernal awakening
will not occur
for a long while.
We tell ourselves, it sometimes
happens this way, too.