This is the season
when the maples
began their rain
of colored tears.
It may still be so,
but not here,
and the palms
know no seasons.
Once there was
a veil of lilac,
bushes trying to
outdo the others.
But at least
the magnolias care
nothing for distance
offering their beauty
here and where we
now have only
memories of the ebb
and flow of seasons.
an old writer and his words 
Excellent poem! I followed the trail from Dr. Phoebe here. Please check out the poems for the October Poetry challenge on my site. Hope you will participate in November.
I will certainly do so.
Thank you, Lou. I appreciate the follow. Your poems are those of someone practiced with the pen.