Death in the Trees

The oak leafs are dying
and they don't seem to know it.
Golds and reds and oranges,
with sweet, sweet voices
like sea nymphs,
are drawing them into a
final moment of glory
after a lazy season of green.
 
The leafs sparkle and sing
in the cool breeze,
twisting and tinkling
and dancing a jig.
 
But it's a daemon painting
the wonders across their skins.
The leafs back away,
too late, too late,
 
and begin to fall.
 
And all the while
the Watchers shout,
- how beautiful it is -

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Volume 1, Issue 5, Posted 6:52 PM, 10.20.2009