The harvest wagons hunker in the fields that have been picked and gathered,
Fields that once were vibrant with life and the color of youth in its many hues.
A scarecrow stands as a lone sentinel with nothing left to guard, his shirt
threadbare and shredding in the the biting fall rain and wind.
Black Ravens ride the updrafts soaring aloft looking for any forgotten morsel, while the mice
and squirrels scavenge on the barren ground.
Persephone has returned to her King for her annual sojourn before returning to the
land of the living. Her guarded heart slumbers in the arms of her lover as she awaits her
allotted time to reemerge.
Oh where is my harbinger of doom to proclaim that "winter is coming" even while the
grass and leaves are still green, predicting the impending cold and snow apocalypse that is to come.
Koneta 2024
Category: Poems