Such chaos in the midst of fierce bitter cold winds
slapping trees from side to side;
slashing leaves before they hit the ground;
swallowing all colors remaining in the mums.
I imagine the metaphoric words from Robert Frost
'nothing gold can stay,' and Kilmer's poem of "A tree that looks at God all day, and lifts her leafy arms to pray.
I am thankful that poets write the words to describe the feelings and pictures that I experience on this dismal fall to winter day.
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.