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Fine Leaves

By John I. Blair

Fine clothes donít really make the man
But fine leaves sometimes make the tree.

More than twenty years ago
Among the volunteers I yank up constantly
Around my woodsy yard

A single sprout displayed five crimson leaves
One autumn day, so pleasing to my eye
I let it grow another season.

Now this December afternoon
I admire it standing there,
Thirty feet in height and beautiful.

Curious how brilliant autumn foliage,
A phenomenon of chemistry
With humans nowhere in the mix,
Contributed to natural selection.

©2016 John I. Blair, 12/8/2016


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