Stones of October's Sobbing - maudlin of the Well

Another year dead, and the harvest moon;

Leaves burning is the peasant’s legacy

Knelling, as the cheek of Summer is kiss’d--

Shivering of the elm, she is entomb’d

The hay wain creaks through the countryside

As poet Autumn’s fires scorch all this world

They are entranced by the turning mill wheel

Clear and cutting with Proserpine’s kiss

Bless the sun, decked in gorgeous array--

Frost, and the dignity of flameless light

The hermit’s cottage, fashioned rough of stone--

Smoke rolling slow behind the orchard’s bloom

Like a cairn, the stones are aligned in silence;

Arrayed by a bloodless hand, out through veils

Time is easily torn while pitchforks twist

Twist as easily through her golden hair

Seasons that kill years…

Death that mangles hearts…

Loves that lose their shine…

Tombs that are forgot…

Darkness awaits behind the suffering day

Men that waste lives in search of Heaven

Stones are sobbing in a vernal field

Thoughts of spring and cascades before you die