In this poem, the poet watches the maples outside his home turn from green to flame, and finds in their transformation a mirror to human existence — the tension between steadiness and passion, permanence and change. “The Splendour of Fall Leaves” is both an ode to autumn’s brilliance and a quiet meditation on how to live brightly, even briefly.
The Splendour of Fall Leaves
The three maples before my home
have begun to turn—
slowly, almost shyly—
their brilliant hues
mesmerize my imagination.
Only a fortnight ago,
they were green with quiet assurance;
today they burn in orange and crimson,
a flame in the making—almost made.
Within a week, perhaps,
they will stand in full fire,
their brilliance leaping into the air,
their glow spilling like prayer-light
upon the earth below.
What binds colour and flame?
Is fire one shade—or many?
This blaze of leaves is not the same
from hour to hour:
its brightness ripples like thought.
I call this splendour electric—
more alluring than any fire.
The hearth may dance and fade,
but these leaves hold a passion
both fierce and calm.
Soon, they will wither,
fall softly to the patient ground;
some breeze will carry them away,
others will rest,
content to merge with the elements.
Are our lives as colourful—or should they be?
Some seek the stable green of calm,
others, the quick crimson of joy.As for me—
I crave a certain stillness,
yet dread the dullness it brings.
I would live like these radiant leaves:
bright, transient, glorious—
burning briefly,
then at peace with the nature
scribo ad LX 