it's the time of year when trees are torn down
dressed in orange rings and chopped into trasportable pieces
how magical to see their insides
how tragic to see them fallen
i talk in orange circles, sometimes
round the middle of the sturdiest part
it's unlike me to run from the rain
but today i'd drive straight into the sun
i wish to grow out, but not covered in leaves
which is why i talk in circles,
ones that mark my destiny
so turn me into a stump before i cover up with leaves
nothings worth the energy it takes to hide
it's been a time of year to break down
and turn my load into transportable pieces
becides, fallen is only the beginning