Amber Flames

By Cindion Huang ’25

​Into the woods I go, where the maroon and yellow
pirouette in the whisper of leaves,
with their branches hanging low
in the crisp, autumn breeze.
 
Aflame are the tips of crimson --
a scarlet island amidst the verdancy,
and the semi-golden edges
                                                blending in
with trees of green seas.
 
The colorful symphonies take me back
to Wu-Kang, where
skies of golden sycamores sing
a childhood lullaby, as scattered strands of
                                                                        sunlight
unveils a narrow pavement
amidst aged walls of white.
 
The auburn flames, everchanging,
forever burning until
their momentary death of winter,
 
embracing their last chance
to glow, becoming nothing
but a memory
                        of amber dance.