Colorful Rags

That gypsy wind likes to dress in colorful rags
so she strips them off the trees by handfuls
and spins around, throwing them everywhere
leaving our street piled high in gold coins,
purple-russet flags and orange embers.

Poor wind, you'll dance naked all winter
when the brown ice-dripping branches are as bare
as shelves after a store-closing sale.
Poor wind, can't you save a few leaves now?
"No, dear, I've left them for you."

Collection available! Knocking from Inside