True Colors

When frost approaches, gypsy maples turn
to gold and scarlet, hues of living flame.
Uplifted boughs like heatless torches burn,
they could be candles then, in all but name.

And yet, the leaves that shine in summer's light
like soldiers dressed in uniforms of green
to me are most like candles burning bright.
The fires they hide more fierce, although unseen.

For far below the limits of our vision
each humble cell may harbor aspirations.
O dauntless, vaunting vegetable ambition
to raise from single seed a forest nation!

From autumn's paints, a truer scene is made
than summer's placid, green, retiring shade.