Where the maple, touched with red,
Bends across the dusty pool,
Bathing in its welcome cool,
Sunspots break the veil of leaves
Like diluted drops of gold,
Cloud the pool with dust-like mold.
Now the sunspots fade away.
Buzzing flies hum louder still,
Tense the air hangs damp and chill,
And the maple’s glittering leaves