Wood and Smoke
Wood and smoke,
heavy with apples,
summer,
laden with light
light and memories,
fade upon
the fallen
autumn fires,
of September’s
silent call,
and leaves.
And, as night
stretches,
shadows lengthen,
high above,
their stars
etch the heavens
singing,
silent,
waiting
for the
winter dawn
to come.
For it is fall
and colder now,
the summer lanes
hidden,
empty
beneath
the boughs
and branches
of frosted October
trees,
waiting, patiently
for daylight
and the slow birth
of the winter
sun.
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p1964km@googlemail.com
