Falling Again

The forest reddens; it can't help but blush,
a maiden shyly starting to undress,
clothes falling on a carpet, soft and plush,
her lips to form a bashful, breathless yes.

And soon it stands stark naked, who'd have thunk it,
as northern winds extend their bearish hug,
and cloak it in a sparkling white blanket,
each cozy limb enshrouded, safe and snug,

to sleep until the sounds of warmer weather
awaken it: a pastoral motif
performed by preening lovebirds of a feather,
embraced by budding branches as they leaf,

each sprout to dress its eager, willing bosom.
It is among them that I found this blossom.

Author notes: image generated by author prompt to GPT