Dead Arboreal Splendour Poem by David Welch

October was mild this year,
softer and gentler then most,
colors 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 scatter and blow,
across yard and street.

Good timing,
snow predicted on Friday.