Oktoberfest

Sleeping bag 
rolls of green hay
speak of Autumnal
fires before the frost

Antelope coats
grown thick and pale
foretell Winter white
mantles across the Plains

Glowering clouds
hung low and wet
mourn Summer’s end
in each prayerful bead

Together we keen
the Nocturnals’ lament
and curl up alone
suspended ’til Spring

© s rogers 2008

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