Sunday, October 04, 2020

Hectic Fall

What happened to that season of sweet sorrow, fall?
Shortening days, morning fog, leaves turning before they fall?

Families struggle to connect to school and work,
struggle just to stay afloat and housed through fall.

Police helicopters hover over one protest after another
after yet another murder in this endless wartime fall.

Political adverts fill the air with meaningless noise
hiding the real, life-threatening choices coming in fall.

Atlantic storms used up the normal names and now flaunt
Greek letters, like some destructive fraternity of fall.

All over the West, fires burn, we drown in smoke
and families flee blazing homes, while the skies fill with ashfall.

October always ends with the Reaper’s grin—a joke
whose point we forgot for too long, remembered this fall.

The Bone Man’s finger points the way into November:
flu season on top of pandemic, elections, a cold brutal fall.

How many will die alone in our homes, in winter’s grip?
God help us, I fear that civilization itself may fall.

Books Available
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

1 comment:

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