Autumn Stands Brooding

It rose east, on high, Autumn's

Dark, slattern sky;

       So brooding; so sullen and gray.        

                         

                                White 'sheep-clouds' lay withered,

Their pillows gone flat ;

Now outlines looked

   Ragged and frayed...    

These are the skies

That foretell a grim landscape:

Damp pastures and bare-naked trees...

For months we'll light candles,

Tend fires, 'make merry'

As late-fall bends

Sun... to its knees.

poem by L.P.-G. / 11-2023