October Fields

October fields 

before the fall, 

ploughed deep 

and long

 ‘afore winters call, 

for the skies 

are wrapped 

in a thousand stars, 

of spring and time 

soon to be,

and remembered, 

in the stillness 

and passing 

of hurrying hours

beside the silent waves 

and restless sea.

And so to leave 

this month of days, 

the door, 

the windows open, 

the trees afire, 

in this dawn, 

the first, of winter 

to become, 

and wander the lanes 

alone and silent 

beside the moon, 

reflecting shadows 

of daylight, 

that fall too soon 

and matter to none. 

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