The Timber’s Inauspicious Fall

A villanelle sonnet inspired by the tree in my back yard.

The autumn whips malicious gales for show,
A hiss prevails from locks of leaves to rocks;
At least the weeping willow whispers so.

The frigid airstreams rip her seams of snow;
An inch of barren branch exposed for gawks.
The autumn whips malicious gales for show.

The noble flake designed of ice and glow
Composes gear redeeming trees as frocks,
At least the weeping willow whispers so.

The boys inhale her blessed breath and grow.
A season pale and grieving poison clocks.
The autumn whips malicious gales for show.

The autumn whips malicious gales for show,
At least the weeping willow whispers so.