October was mild this year,
softer and gentler then most,
colored muted on trees
that clung fiercely to their leaves,
they lingered and fluttered
into November’s days.
Then derecho’s linear blast
roared before Thanksgiving week,
wiping gusts with gusto,
appropriately,
ravaging the dead clingers
from their long, gray branches.
Dead, arboreal splendor
precipitates down, down
to the wasted brown
grass of November.
Last leaves scattered and blow,
across yard and street.
Good timing,
snow...
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