As I sat in late September

on the back porch

I could remember

a tree whose leaves looked to be burning,

burning brightly like an ember

The leaves were floating on the pond

and drifting down

to settle like burning jewels on the lawn

the trees were glowing with the embers-

now the glowing trees are gone

From very first to very last

scraping saws dutifully felled

every red-leafed tree so fast

to make another kind of fire,

but the days of ember-leaves were past

So sitting in December

warmed by the woodstove

I still remember

that tree whose leaves looked to be burning,

and shed a tear over an ember