Sunday, September 29, 2013
swaggers into town
drunk on mountain air
rattles windows and bangs shutters
Gallops down streets and back lanes
looking for another drink of summer
lassos leaves and deck chairs
drags them in a whirling dervish
throws pine cone bullets at their feet
commanding "Dance! Dance!"
strips the branches of gold
robs autumn and my sleep
leaves town with a stolen herd of hopes and provisions
uttering threats that his cold heartless cousin Snow
will soon be by to bury us.