autumn homecoming
wind music sciff, sciff, scatter
crimson dress ribbons
blown this way and that
vulnerable soul
nakedness exposed
tumultuous weather
invincible soul
“Change” is the name of the game at Sunday Scribblings. Change is what I have observed of this tree in the last two weeks. Late in posting this, poem has been in my head all week.
Yat-Yee is hosting Poetry Friday this week.
Jone Rush MacCulloch 
I really like the photos … our trees are still changing- no naked branches yet.
We humans get so crabby about the littlest changes, and yet look what a tree patiently, gloriously goes through every year! A lesson here, perhaps?
I love seeing the photos of the same tree side by side. Did you see the Nova show on fractals? Seeing a tree’s skeleton reminds me that their branches follow a mathematical pattern. Cool!
Lovely poem! Our trees are in the midst of baring their souls. It’s sad, but reveals a different kind of beauty.