The Redheaded Woods

Lightly, the rain swims down 

on an autumn night, a quiet storm 

drunk by the trees that are braided into the background 

awaiting sunshine to dry their leafy hair; 

Redheaded woods this time of year 

gorgeous and like wildfire, burning 

green off into color 

they know how to let go, those giants 

compliant as their hair drips into loam

below them 

Hands of branch and twig-like fingers, 

faces of oak and bark; 

the forest is fiery with a lurid linger 

until winter devours it dark.