November Begins

Cold . cold is the branch where left
Autumn's captive kiss of death
blown into the trees. And thieves
paint the dying, drying leaves.

Wither, wither, they fall with her
flipping, gliding down together...
Autumn smiles, but then she sighs
she can't meet the sun's stark eyes.
Clouds cover to let her play
and keep the fiery fiend at bay.

Gentlemanly rain starts softly,
tips its hat to Autumn deftly;
they begin a graceful dance
fading to a solemn trance.
Soon the turns get faster, faster
thunder groans and spells disaster
conflict rises, lightening tears
sky in halves; clouds thread-bare...
just as all seems all-out war
with no sides to be fought for
sun, the angel, breaks the dark
calms the long and spidery spark;
makes amends with Autumn's ends
just as November begins.