Annette Marie Hyder

Tambourines sound in the air
as the trees shake their leaves
like Gypsies dancing
in red skirts and belly chains
winking with gold coins
copper medallions
and purple paste-cut gems
that tremble in the tempo of the wind
and the wind is the music that is the end
of the summer and the fortune teller’s
crystal ball of winter to come
both rolled into one.

The seasons are wandering players
and carry their backdrops
scenery and props
from place to place
trace their winding footsteps
across wagon loaded years
colorful with the freight
of experience.

When the play is over and done
the show will yet go on
the theater of nature
will still be doing business
long after I am gone
to have gotten a ticket.

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