Beaucade
The maple caught the peacock’s tail,
a thousand eyes that shimmered.
The spruce beheld the dancing lights,
a silent strum of colour.
They hummed the touch that beauty left,
and prepared to play their part.
We unwrapped a dawn of red and gold
and green and blue and white
But we dreamt of grey and glass and steel
and bulldozed through the night
So once a year with all their love,
all of themselves they give.
They drape the land and cover our shame,
kissing our concrete wounds.