Author Pam Brown monday’s twilight dimming on the last few brown leaves of dreary autumn, thin branches jut like grissini from camouflage-patterned trunks, it’s the plane tree the tree the Cubists loved the most, the light, green grey, they loved that too. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments