Do not believe the sky cannot fall
It can dip and swoop a
Grey embrace like a silent bow
Wind itself in sinless frottage
Through mountains and hills
Across high exposed ground
Misty and mizzled through autumn trees
That stand bright and begowned
In their tiger's eye leaves
The geese are not fazed
They cut through its wrap
Ragged line, briefly seen
Before they pass back through
The solemn grey cloak
Its tendrils swirling
It chokes out the sun and
The night comes down early
The high blues of June
Almost hard to remember
As you walk through the
Fallen skies of November