Autumn

Oh, that’s a Pignut Hickory, she says, showing off,
   and pointing to a great splash of yellow and green.
One lonely cedar stands tall in its own climate of ripe
   fall fragrance you want to keep on your fingers
   as you break its seed with your nail.
An oak still green with one small spray of tan,
   as though to say impatiently, I know, I know.
   Just wait.