Today’s prompt draws inspiration from Marianne Moore, a distinctive voice in modern poetry known not only for her style, but for her fascination with the natural world. Many of her poems step into the lives of animals or closely observe them—works like The Fish, The Pangolin, and No Swan so Fine reveal a careful, almost reverent attention to detail. In that spirit, today’s challenge invites us to write from the perspective of an animal or plant, or to describe one through the lens of history or science—blending observation with imagination to bring the natural world to life. I have written a poem from the voice of the Maple Tree, and how it may speak about its changing of the season in autumn with the bright colors of fall and the shedding of its leaves.
The Maple Speaks
I have stood through a hundred turnings,
counted time in rings and wind,
but it is autumn that teaches me
how to let go again.
Once, I held the sun in green—
broad hands drinking light,
turning air to breath,
feeding the quiet work below.
Now the mornings come with teeth—
frost settling soft but certain,
a cold whisper along my bark
that says it is time.
So I answer in color.
I burn without flame—
reds like embers in my veins,
gold like the last light of day,
orange like something almost remembered.
They call it beauty—
this brief, blazing surrender—
but they do not feel the pull,
the slow unfastening.
One by one, I release them.
Each leaf a small goodbye
spinning into the waiting earth
that will take what I no longer hold.
I do not mourn the falling.
I have learned the rhythm—
that to stand through winter,
I must first become less.
So I let the wind carry me
in pieces of fire and memory,
until I am bare against the sky,
and ready for what comes next.
If you enjoyed this poem about foliage and the quiet turning of autumn, you may also find a kindred rhythm in my book, Whiskey and the Autumn Wind.
Whiskey and the Autumn Wind is a collection rooted in the same season you’ve just stepped into—where the air turns sharp, the light grows softer, and everything begins to let go. These poems carry the weight of memory, the burn of reflection, and the slow, steady acceptance that comes with change. There’s a glass on the table, leaves at your feet, and a voice that doesn’t rush—only lingers where it matters.
If you’re drawn to poetry that feels lived-in…
to quiet moments that echo long after the page…
to the kind of writing that sits with you like a late autumn evening—
then this collection is waiting for you.
You can find it here: Amazon, Barnes and Noble
If you want to explore more voices answering today’s prompt. Step beyond this page and into the wider current of #NaPoWriMo—where each voice bends the world in its own way. You can find them here: https://napowrimo.net/
—Or view the list of social media hashtags below.
X: #NaPoWriMo
Congratulations on being featured participant, Richard, and thank you for the stunning poem about the maple, a magnificent tree, and autumn, my favourite season. The opening stanza sets the tone, with its ‘hundred turnings’ and counting ‘time in rings and wind’ – autumn does indeed teach us to let go again. I also love the thought of mornings coming with teeth and the tree answering it in colour.