When my son was little, I made up our own little myth about why the leaves change color in the fall.
Dance of the Trees
Before the trees take their winter rest
They get dressed in their very best
With a curtsy to the wind they take this chance
To dance
Down the street, across the lawn
They dance until their leaves are gone
Leaving us to rake their messes
The traces of their lovely dresses
The apple dons a cheerful yellow
With pleasing fruit she flirts with fellows
She’s as light as a sprite
Her dance a delight
But beware
Do take care
She might have a sour bite
Sassafras prefers hers pink
She’ll turn your head with a sassy wink
Her steps are sharp and precise
Her twirls will entice
There she goes
Tickling your nose
But it’s so nice your let her do it twice
Before the trees take their winter rest
They get dressed in their very best
With a curtsy to the wind they take this chance
To dance
Down the street, across the lawn
They dance until their leaves are gone
Leaving us to rake their messes
The traces of their lovely dresses
Maple’s choice, a pretty coral
She claims her space with her ample laurel
She a sight to be seen
With her lovely careen
I believe
She’ll be the last to leave
Not keen to convene the scene
The Oak’s gown, a majestic scarlet
She’s the most adored, a regal starlet
She’s the belle of the ball
The Queen of them all
Let her dreams be sweet
When the dance completes
She'll enthrall us all next fall
Before the trees take their winter rest
They get dressed in their very best
With a curtsy to the wind they take this chance
To dance
Down the street, across the lawn
They dance until their leaves are gone
Leaving us to rake their messes
The traces of their lovely dresses
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