Sometimes Wonder Looks Like This
trees in our neighborhood busied themselves
for weeks this autumn, first merely hinting at
and then blazing with color,
then no sooner blazing
than losing their leaves to wind
or rain, or both.
day after day, leaves fell all over the place,
dried in yards, skittered on our street,
crackled under our feet
and found their way into our home
caught on our shoes or pulled
in with the sweep of a door.
rakes were in motion, leaf bags were filled,
trees became naked.
not the japanese maple, though,
not the japanese maple
in the shade garden next door.
she stayed resplendently brilliant
vibrantly scarlet
and fully dressed—
no giving in to peer pressure, that gal!—
outlasting others and infusing
the northeastern-facing rooms of our home
with a luminous rosy glow, day after day,
last one bedecked in finery.
until today.
today, a perfectly still november day
bright with sunshine,
after the overnight temperature dipped
below freezing
for the first time since summer.
today is the day
a most unexpected
and silently magnanimous show
takes place:
without complaint,
without resistance,
without trumpet voluntary,
without news reporters’ swarming, and,
notably, without any air movement whatsoever,
she stands elegantly motionless as
one
by one
by one—
but all in a single spectacular day!—
her leaves drop away
with only the barest whisper of a landing
to create a resplendently brilliant
vibrantly scarlet
generously tiered and ruffled
flamenco skirt in a swirl around her
on the ground.
i am riveted with wonder,
a witness to the grace
of transition
from
shade tree
to naked tree,
from
attached
to not attached,
from
fearless this
to fearless that.
right before my eyes!
the leaves drop with only the
barest sacred whisper of a landing
on the ground of my being.
—dotty seiter
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3 x 3″; watercolor and watercolor pencil on paper
#34 in a color swatch series
2025
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Notes about poem and art:
• So very grateful that my eyes were wide open to wonder on November 10. Words can only begin to approximate the wonder, but words are what I have so words are what I use here with humility.
• Bring on a range of reds! I thank the Japanese maple and dogwood leaves—side-by-side neighbors—who volunteered to pose for The Barest.
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