Season of Change
By Avery Letendre
The crisp edges of the leaves make
a stark imprint on the star-stippled sky—
eyes, the brisk snap to the air, that wondrous moonlit quality,
soul, that profound scarlet tone, those veins of gold—
The loveliest maple is yet to turn,
feeling slow, perhaps, but certain,
a soft creeping of color beginning
across its creases, within—
Yes, love, we fall, but we’ll be back
more boldly,
more voraciously,
than ever, and that’s a promise—
Fading, sweetly, but building, roaring, into existence all at once,
that hint of yet-to-be
brings a crackling, living energy, an anticipation
to the silver-limned outline of tonight—
Oh, angel, this moment, that maple
is you.
Can’t you feel it?
I’m so excited to see
what vibrant hue you’ll be.
The Trinity Review 