Still a Few Leaves Left

Thin sunny branches
Spindle upwards to the sky;
Still a few leaves left.








Bleaching in the sun:
Beige and brown, cut pieces of wood,
Soaking up the heat.








No new leaves to kill,
Tent caterpillar sack rots;
What will consume it?

The tree is for rent,
Any Pooh bear may apply;
Yes, these are hard times.

Solitary leaf
Floating gently to the ground
Lands without others
.







A whisper of birds
Grows louder out of the woods;
Gathers to the sky.

Bright white and shaggy
Three mushrooms shoot from the leaves--
Poof! As with magic!

Among bare branches
Pale white seed puffs wait their turn;
Still, they're holding on.