Autumn Grey
The afternoon gloaming,
In vistas of grey,
The smoke billows roaming,
Then carried away,
The aethers in weariness doming,
A landscape of grasses and clay.
The woodland is ashen,
In destitute ire,
A wintery fashion,
Surrounding the fire,
Burning in flickering passion,
As lights in the heavens expire.
Autumnal and dreary,
The leaves scattered wide,
The animals weary,
And eager to hide,
The colours phantasmal and eerie,
With spring and her fanfare defied.
The solitude gripping,
In shapes of despair,
The frostiness stripping,
The wilderness bare,
Into accursedness tipping,
The birds singing sad in the air.
The age is depressive,
With smouldering wars,
The tumult impressive,
Like dangerous claws,
Wreaking destruction excessive,
Atrocities staged without pause.
I search in the shadows,
For meaning and mirth,
In destitute meadows,
Enveloping earth,
Seeking restorative aloes,
To counter this absolute dearth.
The blackness is looming,
The end tarries near,
The haziness pluming,
In spirals austere,
Hopefulness flustered and fuming,
Petrified always in fear…
