I usually hesitate to write seasonal poetry, but today, the maple outside my window is such a flaming orange, that I couldn’t resist. It truly looks like it's on fire. Regretfully, the pictures don’t capture the vibrancy of the light dancing with the leaves.

The topic of fire is timely because for the first time in my memory, there are forest fires in two neighboring towns. Forest fires don’t often occur in Connecticut, but it has been extremely dry here. While floodwaters engulf other parts of the country, here lawns brown, trees wither, and reservoirs dwindle.  This mud and rock island in a nearby reservoir is normally deep underwater, but today, geese rest on their way south.

Somehow, these two intertwined maples outside my window defy the odds and refuse to dry up, bursting with stunning color.

fire falls from maples
lit tissues spiraling down
igniting the ground

© Tracey Kiff-Judson, 2024

Please visit the charming Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink for this week’s Poetry Friday roundup and her thoughts on Awe-Inspiring Autumn!

28 comments

  • Tracey,
    I am so glad you wrote a seasonal poem. The maple tree is gorgeous.
    We are constantly thankful for where we live in Wisconsin. Although we were in a drought until last March - our spring and summer were wet. Fall has been gorgeous - with the grass still verdant and those magical trees dancing just as they do in Connecticut.
    Our leaves are all down and walking through the woods is crunchy. 
  • ooooh, "fire falls" pulls me right in. This is a wow poem. I hope you get the bug to write more seasonal poems. I can't stop myself from taking photos of leaves...it's crazy how many photos I have that also don't do justice to the way the light plays between the leaves. Even if I could capture it, it's better to just enjoy it. I need to break my habit of trying to capture ;)
  • Tracey--this is lovely! I hope the air will be clean again and fires will be quelched. l think the trees just burst into color here this week. 
  • Those maples are gorgeous. Ours are so pretty this year, too, but it's also so dry here. Love your poem, Tracey — I can hear the flames. 

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