There’s a little maple tree outside our front door that sometimes has trouble deciding when Winter’s coming. Even in December, Southern California weather never sends a clear message, and the little tree is perpetually confused. Right now, half the leaves have gone gold, and the other half are still green. A few scattered leaves surround it, as if they were reluctant to let go.
If you take a close look at the branches, everywhere it’s pushed out a yellowed leaf, a tiny green bud is already sprouting. It’s made me wonder if the tree has a message for me about change. In that vein, today’s poem is from Gerard Manley Hopkins. In the poem, the poet ponders the lesson of the woods. The little girl he’s walking with begins to cry when she sees the leaves dropping from trees. “That time of year thou mayest in me behold,” says Shakespeare. “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” counters Shelley.
Spring and Fall
|to a young child|