AUTUMN GALE

Listening to the howling

wind,

           sunshine in my eyes,

this planet of sorrows

still turning,

fallen leaves on wet grass

summer cast down,

sunbeams

                    caressing

their forms

snow will bury

at my feet,

                    and the wind

comes and goes,

howling,

howling,

one large birch branch

broken

               pointing down

to the earth,

fallen leaves and dying

grass withering

hammered by rain

night and gray dawn

through.

                 Will it come

down before

the snow

buries the leaves

at my rooted feet?

22.09.2025