I wrote this poem back in the mid 70's. I have never been published, that I know of.
"Now dead long leaves of dying trees lie careless to the wind
they scream no more to autumn, praying for a gentle breath,
a death without an agony. . .
And Trees.
They Rot Silently"
Now, I get that when I wrote this I had no idea of our American Autumn; it is my gift to the 99%,, those who represent me and my family, and all Americans who find themselves in our similar situation. We are the leaves. We know the trees,
Evie