First day of Autumn

Okay, so it's not really, but as I sit here next to my open window it sure feels like it.... I can actually smell Hallowe'en in the air. So in honour of that I decided to post one of my poems. I wrote this back in 1998 when my granddad passed away. Enjoy!


First Day of Autumn

It's the first day of Autumn
Another season of death.
The air is fresh and crisp and smells divine.
Yet, it carries on its very back, the end of life.
The grey season closes in with every movement of the poplar trees in the yard.
If through some miracle they survive yet another harsh winter,
They shall revive and smile once again upon the children as they played at the bases.
But for now, they seem to be crying out in pain.
The wind contorts and thrashes them about.
Even the sky seems to feel the melancholy of the time.
Grayish green, it races overhead, as we gather.
A gaping hole stands before us, as though the earth starves and cries out to be fed.
Slowly into this artificial mouth we lower one of our own.
Followed with a drink of tears, to wash away the pain.
It's the first day of Autumn.
Another season of death.