Do the trees laugh
To see their brightly hued leaves
Swirl on the wind
Then fall to form a glorious colorful carpet?
Do they mourn the loss
Of their seasonal raiment
That partially cloaks them
From over-curious prying stares?
Perhaps, like us, their response
Can be both or mixed or changeable.
I don’t understand the ways of humans.
I would never dare to presume with trees.