Dark Samhain stalks, ochre leaves riot
And seethe defeated in the stinging squalls.
The distracted sun, pale and bitter as whey,
Mocks the burnt-out pumpkins on the sill.
Across the buckling road the river
Broad brown silent swift all one
Indifferent as time, intent as death,
Falls for the new world, spitting out the old.
Dusk thickens on the rising stream,
Plastic strings the tangled trees,
Unnatural light leaps, lauding the old iron,
Like a prayer for something half forgotten.
