Encore

Nature, that incurable show-off,
Must have one last gaudy fling
Before white winter takes the boards;
And chooses, with tongue in cheek,
The lowly pear to show what can be done
With the Master's directing touch.
All summer the tree has stood
Making no pretension to more
Than symmetry at most.
Now, with alchemy of frost and time,
It is transformed to beauty--bronze and gold!

I wonder if Rembrandt chose
With such care his colors,
And so willingly gave of precious hours?
Perhaps, I thought, he too had spent of time
Gazing at pear trees in late fall.