Autumn Middle Darkness

Written by: William J. Jr. Atfield

Autumn
Middle Darkness

What has been – once was – a brilliant time.
This season was unable to delight / fill these eyes.
Old Man Autumn, had to fill in for Jack Frost,
painting Mother Natures verdure in washed-out hues.
Old Man Autumn, could no longer wait for Jack Frost’s,
hand to touch the core, the heart and leave his
multi coloured cloak to greet Old Man Winter.

Fact is, at the end days of October,
naked stood much of Mother Nature’s dress of foliage,
nothing much left of the canvas for Jack Frost, 
to paint his master piece upon, even if
he should have laid his rime all around,
had he come sooner to touch all that could
lay beneath his icy fingers, his cold stare.

This and other disappointments are all
that filled these old eyes, this tired mind
as this long, long, cold, black snake passed
beneath my heart, beneath my soul,
carried my spirit, mile upon mile,
from whence I came.
back to, from whence I came.

B. .J. “A” 2
November 10th 2007