Now it is Fall.
The Tree sheds off Her golden crown and shares it with the ground,
And still She stands tall.
Every single day, with every sweeping breath of wind,
Her head will turn to bald,
And we will pass by Her and say “Look! How much She has changed!”
And even then, ‘The Tree’, will still be what She is called:
For She will be The Tree when Her crown is emerald green
She will be The Tree when Her crown turns to golden brown
And She will still be The Tree when it is time to take it down.
She will always be The Tree.
With or without Her crown.
For in every season, as She becomes a different Her, She will always be a Queen.
