Fall's Funeral

All the rustic brown,

orange,

and green leaves

on every road

begin to lasso October

for his last threads of autumn.

Black clouds flush

the fully-lit-stone,

and fangs soar

the chilly midnight air,

cackling

and

screeching,

the last breath

the scarecrows will exhale.

The trademark-V possesses the moon,

and paves south

to hide from frozen return.

Pumpkins wrinkle tea-light for children,

while bon-fires crawl back inside chimneys,

as the sky unravels behind de-tasseled corn.

The depressed sun sleeps longer than usual

during her blanketed hibernation,

and the grass will awaken

frostbittenly reborn,

the moment mother nature

bares herself to the world

naked.

By Jai K

Website: http://jaik82blog.wordpress.com

Twitter: jAiK82

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