The Holly, but, more importantly, The Ivy

The great big oak tree casts off his coat while the rest of us put ours on, Throwing down the golden-brown piles of spiky leaves, A dance floor for the couple everyone’s talking about. It’s their time now, their time in the pallid sun! And sure, Holly might make a scene, berry-ripe in snow, like children’s faces, But her slender partner really steals the show. Ivy’s green, she winds, she twists, she makes her place secure – winds both ends at one go. And oak and ash don’t mind her creeping up and down – they know. They know as well as you and I That when the summer’s in the sky And flowers are all in bloom, Ivy dies before the trees. Her time comes all too soon.