Want to make a difference?

A raw, windy December day.
Just a few weeks ago (and for most of the year)
I could not see my neighbor's yard for the trees.

But today the leaves are gone.
Trunks, branches, and twigs admit
Houses, trash cans, and sky;
Naked maples, nude oaks, bare sycamores.

All doing what they are supposed to do.
​
So are their one-time leaves, quietly and obediently
Becoming mulch under a blanket of snow.

January

All doing what they are supposed to do.

Except the beeches--

Copper brown and sunset backlit,
Jitterbugging in the breeze,
They alone make it worth gazing
​      through my winter window.

Beeches are non-conformists,
Deciduous outlaws, breaking the rules.
For them there is Autumn, but no Fall--until Spring.

If not for them I'd see a view, but not a scene.
They make a scene--
The same way my mother told me
Not to make a scene in public.

February

Beeches are not in a hurry; expectations can wait.
The wind cries, "Fall, dammit!"
They ignore it,
Bucking the wind, bucking the trend.

It's easy to fall and become mulch.
It's hard to be different.

Being different, beeches make a difference.
Want to make a difference?
​
Be a beech.

March

​(c) 2017 Larry Pizzi