It’s an oak, I think, outside my door
It, too, has had enough of this year
In two days, two months late,
Set itself aflame
A phoenix.
Impetuous
Prone to extremes
Withering transitions intolerable
It’s the only one left on the lane
With any green
With any leaves.
There’s no stopping it now
Two more days
Crimson, golden scales
Will launch
Drift
Land like fireworks.
In two more days
For two more months
Standing naked
Shameless
Greater in Spirit and Truth.
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