Friday, November 16, 2018

The Gray Season

The thick grey clouds rode
like surf assailing the barren coast
bringing to bear its full might
against the late-autumn sky.
The eclipsing gloom, the shadow
of some ill portent
drove deep icy spikes
into the heart of the day.
A dry rattle echoing down the pavement
bespoke the certainty of entropy and decay.
We bore it all
with dry, cracked hands
and aching bones, laboring outdoors
beneath the chill and threat of snow.
In defiance, we removed our coats
and let the breeze dry the sweat
from our flagging flesh.
With each pull and exertion
we made our revolt
---our silent revolution,
against all manner of powers and principalities.
Resting only by mutual,
wordless assent we watched
the fall of the last stubborn leaves
and the smoke
rising in distinct plumes
to call home the wounded and weary.

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