A Mild and Forewarning Season
Tomorrow hovers, an uncertain ghost
trying to recall how to haunt.
The calm is over, the leafy drape dropped.
Beyond the window
sparrows are digging trenches,
feathered preppers pecking on the edge
of a dim and looming sunset.
November peeks out
from under a russet and smoky skirt,
It is losing its color
turning into a pale harbinger,
beckoning us into darker dreams.
The climate is finding its ice roots,
it spooks the blood.
Time to shake out the woolens,
those bullet proof garments of winter.
Tomorrow is coming
and it is pulling the dead
behind it.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
