This is that special time of year when a particular species of maple- I wish I could share with you which one, but TBH I’m not sure – turns a sunny yellow shade. A few years back, I tried to write a poem about it, and only came up with four lines. However, those four lines have stuck with me; to date, it’s the only poem of my own that I’ve memorized, and it comes back to me every year at this time, like a half-remembered children’s song…
Golden
Golden carpet on the ground
looks like sunshine all around.
Golden leaves on golden trees,
when the wind blows, golden breeze.
Ephemeral Triskele 
3 comments
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October 27, 2009 at 8:40 pm
deejbrown
Lovely photo, lovely poem…it sings in my head!
October 28, 2009 at 8:49 pm
deejbrown
Excellent post. I see more of this every year and less of native plants. I read somewhere the northeastern forests will never recover.
We all know the source of the problem, and it isn’t Canada geese, or White-tailed deer. Hmmmmmm.
October 28, 2009 at 9:43 pm
ephemeraltriskele
Scary, isn’t it? Along the roadsides, no more fern, only stilt grass. The understory in some places is all barberry and burning bush. Kind of heartbreaking.