No wonder these o’ercast climes to me appeal -
My penchant for the dark, for black and grey.
Oh, I’ll wear deep green or blue, and once, wore teal,
But leaden skies are what I've donned each day, the
Self I have put on.
And now today, not one week in my sixties,
I walk these darkening woods in pleasant gloom.
The days foreshortening, shadows cast, though ‘midst these
Are trees like basking in a summer’s room, clear
Skies beyond.
These alder leaves hold all the light of sunshine -
Translucent golden beams against dark trunk.
I covet color that was only once mine;
I reel in wooded galaxies as if drunk:
And smile, to watch the leaves fall
One by one.