Grace Chenxin Wang
The trees were shedding their beautiful cloaks,
And the frigid frost arrived as winter awoke.
The leaves as red as a fox’s hide,
A swirling and eddying, relentless tide.
Graceful ballerinas pivoting in mid-air,
And a handful of soldiers perfectly aware.
The waning foliage,
A delicate collage.
Strewn across the bleak, sodden landscape,
Crushed and obliterated like an expired mandate.
The crisp winds blew by in a breeze,
The impending blight quite at ease.
The taste of the rain’s salute,
Prominent as the fog’s pursuit.
The cloudbursts and shadows reunite,
Washing away the last summer night.