Autumn

When the sun stops sharing its heat

when the clouds stop singing

and the trees dancing,

will take a knee

I shall know that it is time

for autumn

for winds to grow cold

and the trees to grow bald

the days shorter

and the nights stranger

and that autumn

I will rid the world of twilights,

of horizons, monsoons, roses,

daybreak, sunset et cetera et cetera

and all things that remind me of love

and of broken hearts

for the pursuit of the invisible

is foolish

that autumn

I will watch the dancing trees

and the haughty roosters

and pray for the winter

to come sooner

and hasten the fall of the fall

and cover all things in white

rendering each indistinguishable

from the other

damp, cold and dead

that autumn

I shall write my hymns for a dark future

where pithy love

finds space

for secrets and betrayals

where sunlight finally gives up

and the moon sleeps forever

perhaps then I will

finally rid the world

of its childish gods

its intemperate poetry.