Happy Birds
My thought do dance
like happy birds
flitting around just to soak in all
the very last of autumn’s light.
The days will grow much colder yet
and the air won’t look so yellow.
The light that hangs in dying leaves
will be carried to the ground to sleep
and the old maple’s tired bones
will rattle atop the hill.
But down beneath the ground,
this autumn light will flow
to the roots of the old maple tree
whose beating heart still glows.
If I place my roots here in the yard,
then perhaps I will remember
to watch the birds
who will not rest
through cold days in December.