Tree Fates
When trees begin to pale with hints of bling
The first effect seems like a gauze-glove haar,
A tailored fitting from the hidden spring
Which spins this morning mist, distinct and far
Removed from gloom. It corresponds with dawn.
Yet sometimes when thin scraps of actual haze
Rise up from damp domains, the limbs put on
These wisps of masquerade until the rays
Of later sunshine, later days, bring out
Less transient garments from the arms where they
Have lain in naked winter, and without
A hint of shame put on their full display.
The last effects then: even leaves’ late bloom
Begins to fail. They clothe the ground with doom.