Morning After Rains
They plant their roots for firmness in the earth.
They do not think of death but plan for pods
And seeds. Their blueprints are for birth.
They have a strong disdain for lightning rods,
For what is living for except for heights?
They search out green for broadness and use ground
For making colors in the copper lights
Of autumn. Trees use gold leaf to compound
The look of fall, and rubies, emeralds, gems
Of amber, too, to dress themselves for cold.
The queenly ones embroider brocade hems
With jewellery’s beauty. Their crowned kings grow bold.
..The woods are courtly, magisterial,
Not immortal, but still imperial.