'Ambar'

She’s arriving, ephemerally, elegantly,
Endlessly changing, and yet –
Recognisable this year, like every year,
Watch as she’s climbing, delicately, gracefully,
Onto the branches.
Her slim arms stretching, spreading, transforming,
The green of Summer’s dress.

She’s casting, her red shawl, on cooling
Grey boughs, tapestry-rich, rioting, in russets,
In roses, patchworking, the bright leaves,
Pirouetting, as ballerinas dancing,
Over a sunlit stage.
Flickering, fluttering, soft lights and gold shades,
Blazing, treetops like candles, caressing March skies.

Maples and Ambars and Ash,
Autumn’s soft shawl is shifting, it’s sighing,
Sheathing, in crimson, moving, responding,
To winter’s cold breath.
Then slowing and settling, covering, she stills...
Rests. Protects. The silently slumbering earth.