Thoughts on a Warm October

Branches of faded green protrude
from a dying husk of a Florida oak.
They move at the beat of
the autumn wind.
I tug at one from the side and,
hoping to find a hint of amber,
I only see the same leaf
on every stem.
Dew droplets cling to my skin
as I touch the veiny surfaces.
Angered by its static appearance,
I pluck them, sadly realizing that
the only Fall they will see
is from my own forced equinox.