Past The Peak


In the hush,
fireworks spent.
The layer of fading colors lay still and quiet on the forest floor.
In the hush,The clapping and laughter of the maples is now silenced.

The white bark of the birch and poplar have reappeared,
They dance scantily clad or naked in front of the exhausted maples.
Surely they mock the maples for their flash in the pan excitement.

Now we see the burnished reds, rich buttery mahoganies,
and velvety browns of the stately oaks.
Through winters harshest treatment they will hold their colors,
Refusing to relinquish their foliage until the first scent of spring
tinges the air.

In the hush,
The golden yellow tamarack step away from their cousins of green.
They appear as silent beacons in the fading light.
Each glows with almost palpable warmth,embracing Fall's final days.
In the hush,
Past the peak,
When we experience the quiet joy of what was best, saved for last.

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