To my daughter, Autumn…
In a sea of green lives Orange the Tree
Never discouraged with bright colored leaves
He bellows on high, “Orange, am I!”
While Greens are content to pass the time by.
Be it Summer or Fall, to be seen by all,
He flexes his branches and commences to call,
Even at night, the tree’s such a sight
That the stars in the sky envy his might.
“Quiet that noise,” an Oak employs
A tactic for the racket that Orange enjoys
“For the color you share, we do not care.
While we sleep, not a peep do we want to hear!”
But Orange ignores what the Oak implores
And continues to roar as Greens slumbered and snored.
Oak woke with a yawn as the new day dawned
And looking ’round saw that Orange had gone.
Uprooted, he’d fled, to the north he’d tread
Orange did search for a Maple named Red
Now up in the cold, Orange grows old
Saplings gather ’round as his story is told.
In that sea of green, Orange fought to be seen.
To become unique, you must only believe!
(Author’s Note: Once upon a time, while traveling through Vermont, my wife noticed a tree that stood out in the distance. Everywhere you looked, there were trees with green foliage. But there, in the middle, was an orange anomaly, big and bold. We joked about how he strained to be noticed. So much so that he’d changed before the season had. I’ve always admired that tree for wanting to be unique. This poem is a tribute to him, dedicated to my own sapling…”ORANGE!”)