October Skies: A Short Poem

With a dark promise,

behind clouds of pewter

and wisps of the trails of spirits,

the moon rises and sets it eye

upon the fields

and furrows below;

The trees, almost barren

of the leaves of Summer

twist and writhe

in the cold , bleak wind

and call out “Farewell”

to the weary traveler

who passes them by;

the ground is littered with fallen

shards of color,

covering all that can be seen

with bleeding, shining, glory

and the moon shines on still

with it’s gaze fixed

to raise the spectres

of the fallen ones

who wait and watch

for their escape…