The Trees Are Naked Now

How strangely independent the trees they all are
Boldness to stand and be noticed from afar,
Swaying in cadence to and fro with the wind,
Throwing wild parties every now and then.

Birds are welcomed to rest on their branches
Squirrels to sit and munch nuts on their haunches
To rest and to slumber beneath quilt of green
To nest and to sleep up high where they dream.

Autumn’s now come, the season must change,
It’s time for the birds to continue down range.
The leaves they have coloured, the chicks they have grown,
Feathered and plump, in flocks south they’ve flown.

Remnants of summer blanket littered all ’round,
Limbs reach like fingers away from cold ground,
Unembarrassed bare bodies, stand so straight and tall,
Embracing every season, even more so in fall.

Crisp biting air makes wood groan and shudder
An elaborate, yet static ballet of live lumber.
I see them dance past my window at night
Tip tapping on shutters giving children a fright.

2005,12,22
Tring-land
England