October

Autumn winds sway the trees, blowing, swirling dry brown leaves, coats of dogs and cats get thick, dusk is grey and comes too quick. Early morning skies are pale, fog becomes an earthly veil, great piles of pumpkins crowd the stores, Halloween candies by the door. Iron colored is the sky, jostling clouds hurtle by, kitchens smell of pumpkin pies, lightning crackles through the skies. Meadows brown and fields lie fallow, noon is bleak, the light seems shallow, October is a month of death, poppies draw their final breath. Quick as death the summer's gone, rain and tears are Autumn's song, silent God who answers naught, thirty years of answers sought. Under bleak and barren trees, voiceless sorrow no one sees, weary souls detest their fate, and search in vain for heaven's gate. Yesterday was just a dream of zippered lips and childhood screams.