One tree has the right idea
Her leaves are turning red.
As autumn nears she sheds her fears
And soon will bow her head.

Her fruit was ripe, was picked, is gone,
Her branches have been shaken --
Now nothing's left, except the signs
Of  tolls that time has taken.

The other trees just laugh and stand
And stare or what trees do.
They do not seem to understand;
So many, and so few.

But our tree has an iron will
And sturdy roots and boughs.
She knows the value of a thought
And one's own dreams and vows.

And one tree has the right idea 
Her leaves are turning red.
No time for sighs when time arrives, 
She simply sleeps instead.