parallel ridges of dirty clouds
smudged onto this November sky
floating above the grim majesty
of naked trees dotted
with stubborn brown leaves
replacing the colors of summer
with a cold wind emptied of sweetness
in a gloom tinged with gray
the shift moves deeper
sobering images everywhere
yang replaced by yin
in the dearth of light
a kind of surrender
a shift in hope
an abysmal longing
how different the poems
started on fall days