Dark Harvest

Photo by Joseph Hesch

October winds and rains cleared
the branches and stretched
my piece of sky’s once red arbor edges.
You would think one might see,
once the light comes again,
more feathers in the trees
usurping the old territory of
now-ground blanketing leaves’.
But, as dawn stretches maples’
cold skeleton-shadow hands
to rap at my door,
no robins’ songs awaken me,
nor the screech of crows
chanting their harsh
morning prayers.

The 5:30 freight train’s
forlorn whistle, as it
hauls westward the night,
replaced mourning doves’
lowing signal that morning’s on
my leaf-tossed doorstep.
It signals another Fall harvest
of days’ memories, the yield
of a life spent searching
for something that would grow
from dreams but never did.
But it brought forth
this comforting creation,
a new life, where before
nothing but darkness informed
my cold and drowsy thoughts.