COLD SKIES
"For the days dwindle down
To a precious few …
November … December …"
-- Weill, "September Song"
October days are drawing in, October skies are cold,
September's gone, the leaves are brown which fell as red and gold,
The cornshocks stand, dry sentinels on fields soon clad in white,
The stars are glittering diamonds on the black nap of night.
So many seasons come and gone, the years have fledaway,
The dreams as well—faint forms remain, they vanish with the day.
Dear names and faces growing dim, dear voices vanished too,
Our days of bold adventuring now off beyond the blue.
Yet warming us with memories, unbidden thoughts arise,
Like wines of well-aged vintages, despite these somber skies.
Then let the winds of winter come! We'll brave them,as before,
Full many a mile upon this tack, to reach that Farther Shore.
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