# # At Season's Turn

Brother, I Can See Your Skull.

Brother, I Can See Your Skull. - The Coreyshead Blog

At Season’s Turn

Peaked sunlight plays
pallid and remorseless
upon the matting of bent grasses
and the scurrying of blown leaves
Once green and spry
or held flappingly aloft
in soft bark fingers
Spring is now faded cracked and low
the sky scratched grey and spare
by the naked gnarl
of leafless branch and bough
a hissing sway of scissoring stalks
through which wind whistles
and I wander
wondering at these endless fields
of hapless mortality
but shedding not a tear
for fear not
the green and birdsong
will return anew
dew covered and blossom topped
and gay as the day is long
though you and I
my friend
you and I may not
So fill your lungs
and savor the sound
of autumn’s sharp crackle
as seasons turn
at season’s turn

cae 9-29-09

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