This is a terza rima
The little leaves are red brown in the sun
The branches turned out shapes are full of joy
Little glitters play on leaves for fun
Eden was not totally destroyed
We return there in these glances rare
As nature and our friendships we enjoy
Living now, we never should defer
The sights, the dreams we harbour every day
The future is still fiction, if it’s there.
The maple does not ask the quetion, why?
Seek meaning for its life and its affairs
Like it we must now live before we die
How my heart sings 