In The Fall

 

It's a restless night

the wind prowls through

every niche and cranny

in the blackness of the

forest where trees stand

dark and still the silence

broken by a steady shuffle of

still-green foliage. Daytime

the wind had competition

as far above the forest canopy

etched on grey-streaked clouds

a squadron of jet planes swept

the sky bellowing through the

turbulent air as though to challenge

the wind harvesting leafy branches

in a steady stream of bellicose rage

foliage floating languidly to the

forest floor. Nature dispatching

her elements to usher in fall. The

planes streaking the sky

were dispatched by human agency

to remember and to mourn the

carnage imposed on an unsuspecting

world of opposing ideologies

creating a harvest of human casualties

in the fall of innocence.