A Coming Fall

I believe I see the first red leaves
Of the coming fall
The summer’s breeze flits in between
A lion’s roar and lull

The winds have cooled and after noon
The sun so early sets
Where mountains loom ‘neath harvest’s moon
This summer night forgets

The fattened bears in turn despair
Should winter come too late
That summer’s gains would thin and wane
Til naught could hunger state

With mother’s love Ma calls her cubs
Into a town at night
Outside the pubs in garbage tubs
She hears old songs of fright

Sweet sorrows bellow from drunken fellows
Drowned in barley’s brew
They dance and dine; their moves divine
No mind for mother’s rue

Outside the songs a chorus kaws!
Dark feathers fill the sky
From high above their forked tongues
Discern the drunkard’s lie

And wait, they wait – they cry the fates
Which mook shall make his end
Then rest in leaves – red, orange, green
Black beaks once meek now grin

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