The month of Fall's death ever leaves me dangling
or alone. This time I cannot be sure if leaves fall
as the ground rustles ahead of me.


Have I forsaken some Season I've never lived
that whispers in treetops each eve of Winter?
All in One / One in All, I alone am what you have
and only what can never be, caught so I am
in this Device.


Come at night— The snow shall cover thee
O you, my friend of death.
How can life be swaddled so
and then to march into such arms,
who never fails to leave
though never do you come?