October fire

Dryads must be real, because
The summer needs a sunset.

There must be spirits in the trees,
Because they are the sunset.
Clothed in color and burning life,
They make death a glory--
And that's nothing but magic.

The twilight comes and winter creeps,
But first the dryads will dance.
They know this moment flies,
That leaves will flame, then fade.

Who cares.
There are more important things
Than death.

So now they dance.
Heads high and branches raised,
They burn in motley fire,
A beautiful chaos of shades
That shines brighter in the shadows.
They dance.
Leaves will fall forever soon,
But they have nothing to fear.
There will be another October.