After months of wearing green,
the trees have had enough,
lusting after bursts of red, yellow, orange, brown
against bright blue October skies
until their leaves have also had enough,
and drift down into piles that crunch underfoot.
The tomato and pepper plants—
of more use to the deer than me—
have cried enough,
their spindly stems now moved to the brush pile.
My flowers too have declared enough, enough
. . . . . . .except for the impatiens
. . . . . . .losing leaves but still flaunting petals
. . . . . . .like the balding woman in chemo
. . . . . . .dyeing her few remaining strands of hair bright pink.
by Judy A. Johnson
Editor’s note: This poem seems simple, with lovely imagery and personification, and then the last four lines leap up like a shout.