Windowpane

Eli says that I owe the world a blogpost since I retracted my last one. All I have these days is poetry, so hopefully this satisfies his demands :)

Darkness robes the bare boughs of the trees
Which, otherwise denuded of their autumn finery,
Shiver and shake in the slight twilight breezes
--And a light:
The crimson burnt glory of a tree top
As the sunset spills down, picking out
A pale stretch of bark,
Unique, the chosen one
In a world of dark stripes against a darkening sky.
Soon enough: gone like the leaves;
And yet, perfect
In the flash and fleeting passing of a rush hour train.