Red warnings

Leaves land like birds.

Cardinals buffeted by wind flutter about,

the same hue; the yard alive in reds and golds.

The cardinals and the leaves are competing for the best scarlet and burnt orange and tawny brown. Behind the house the maple is nearly full on red and the cardinals just disappear as they fly in. The colors are so similar I can imagine whole branches of birds trying to lift the tree and sneak off with it. Cardinals seem like pranksters what with their little pointed caps and orange beaks; they’d enjoy making off with a tree or two.

Imagine trees up and disappearing and the ensuing search. We could make it a game: Find the tree! Once the leaves have gone, you’d need to know your bark, how the branches grow and bend, the way the sun lands late in the afternoon. It could be a neighborhood competition, teams would form, the O’Fallon Tree Sprites and the Shiloh Silver Birches. The South Cul-de-Sac against State Street. Everyone rushing to reclaim their trees. The birds will sing and whistle, mocking us, they’d remove trees again and again. But we’d get better over time. We’d use maps and drones and apps until we found each tree and got it back safely to its rightful place.

Then with our new found skills we’d be ready to help reunite 545 children with their missing parents. Once again naming ourselves and forming teams The Complicit, the Shameful American, Blind to the Truth and the Unforgiven. Are birds embarrassed for us or are the colors mirroring anger?