Well Versed In The Weather

Indian summer
Retreats
In the night
On the little feet
Of rain,
Leaving
Transparent pearls
Hanging from pine boughs.
In its wake,
Wolf clouds
Devour the Moon.

Today,
Orphan of Green
Abandoned by Red and Yellow and Orange
Its wail of revenge
Sends shivers
Through naked maples.
Gone is the love song
Of the trees.
Gone is the sweet smell
Of earth laid bare
Cooled from solar passion.
Gone, all gone
With the Great Star's migration
South.

Then
The descending dark
The ebony that
Surrounds,
Contracts
The Universe
Persuading heavenly bodies
Toward sleep
In the firm bosom
Of the Earth Mother.

Snow fairies
Dancing on a raging current
Mute
The sleeping village,
Their shadows
Flickering
In the caress
Of light spots,
The Ghostly vision
Of futures present.