Headed for a fall

In some seasons, we live for sweater or verse.

“Today I have lived a poem.”
Ethel Romig Fuller (1883-1965)

Headed for a fall

A spectral tincture tones the time,
As mottled midnight mutes the crime.
The hidden hues,
Ash to chartreuse,
Boast purples tossed between the lines.

They bold become in shades of earth,
While nature drifts to death from birth.
We bundle up
And fill the cup
To warm our innards, making mirth.

Alas, the darkest deed of all
Is winter’s hast’ning after fall.
For summer, spring,
And autumn zing.
But Mean Old Man may merely crawl.

Beyond our senses, horror flick
Assembles its alarming pick.
The roar and wails
Of stormy gales
Are up the road about a klick.

Still, stoke the fire. Rake the coals.
Slip into sweaters. Fill the bowls.
The harvest moon
Brings bane and boon.
It’s all beyond our own controls.
c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Mad Kane Humor: autumn limerick
OctPoWriMo: “purple” – plus “shade,” “tone,” “tincture,” “spectral,” and “mottle”
Write 31 Challenge: Travel into a novel or movie.


Adapted from public domain image
31 Days logo – created by this user,
including public domain artwork.

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