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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