Last Leaves, Fleet river by Carstramon, mid November
Dull-bright sky diffuses through layers and lines
of mossy trunk shapes, olive green
crossed branches and springy end tips
buds suspended in growth until spring
reaching up and outward fanned
with reddened sap blood not yet withdrawn.
But all is not cold and bare
for dotted here and there
shine bright globes,
rounds of blurred circles,
leaves of pure yellow and lime green,
edged with aching shades of decay
To delight the eyes, where light glows through
highlighting the veins and marks.
At dusk the dew-drops glint and hang
in row on row of horizontal growth.
Larch trees display fireworks
upward-bound, still-soft
in palest shades of warmth
gentle fire apricot needles
on bracken-brown tips
against pale lichen-blue sky
the perfect compliment.