The Ash and Maple

The Ash

Three fell this summer
In a storm
Trunks sliced
Off at ground level
Their life still in the soil.

Others who survived
The blast of wind
Announce their presence
This fall
With plum colors
As they die again.

The Maple

From the top,
Down, the green
Leaves, leave.
She blushes
Her face now red.

No chameleon
She loses,
Though she does not
Battle; her fire
Comes from within,
Her flame, her glory.

Mark Eckel
14 October 08

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