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November Folly
Autumn is in its glory today,
parading gaily toward the dark chasm of winter.
The smell of the leaves, the whipping winds --
It’s as if the spirits of autumn are partying gaily
with the last lazy spirits of summer,
the stragglers who hovered past the day of bones
to dance this mad waltz with their late blooming kin.
Your oracle eye sees it all, Mani.
With the grace of darkness,
You hover high above,
watching with wry indulgence,
the mad capers of vaettir below.
Let them kick up the leaves,
And dance in the wind
My eye is on you
and the path you blaze in the darkness.
© Galina Krasskova