Rachel Morton and
Elizabeth Cordes

Rachel Morton

End of an Era
By Elizabeth Cordes
Inspiration piece

The smattering of red and orange

crunch under my feet as I pass

the nearly bare maple tree.

I pause to look up.

Autumn and old age

have done it no favors.
Only a few small clusters

of  jaundiced leaves

cling to the giant’s sickly branches.

As if in defiance,

they flutter like gold foil

against the furious clouds

that have charged in from the east,

chasing the sun from the sky.
The last remaining arms,

of which most are brittle and dead,

shiver wildly from the quickening winds.

The last wavering flags

drift down to join their brethren.
As night emerges,

I think

of the empty space on the side of the road

when the time comes

for the blighted tree to be cut down.