A Saga of Trees: A Sestina

Beauty majestically enthroned in trees;

So solemnly, there is a surrender of their leaves.

All that is left is a profile of their trunks.

What has happened to their parade of colors?

The ancient trees exposed by their rings;

The wonder of their lives is full of knots.

What is the mystery behind the knots?

They are evident in all of the trees,

As well as the vast collection of rings;

So elaborate, their camouflage of leaves,

Yet even more exciting, their transition in color;

So unique, the vast variety of trunks

Like soldiers on the march, the barren trunks,

Their wounds of battle exposed like knots,

Naked and bare, a loss of their true colors

Exposing them for what they are, just trees,

Somehow cold and lifeless without leaves

And yet, the truth is still told in their rings

There is a silent voice that speaks in the rings

That somehow compile the reality of the trunks

That soon will find the springing of their leaves

Tediously covering the reality of their knots,

Redefining each forest with its trees

In shades of greens, a play of colors.

And soon a full display of autumn colors

Adding to the collection of now, not visible knots;

There’s beauty found in each one of the trees

Apart from just the mysteries of the trunks

And gnarling of the older trees in knots,

The cloak of red and yellow colored leaves.

And such, is thus the saga of the leaves,

Its presence known with changing of the colors

Exposing once again the telltale knots

And the vulnerability of truth found in its rings.

A tell tale sign, the breaking of the trunks,

The weakness exposed of even the strongest of trees.    

Yes, there are knots and there are leaves,

The mystery of trees portrayed in color;

Their history in rings, deep in their trunks.