Autumn atonement

Autumn fire crackles and crisps under foot.
White willow leaves in unanchored mayhem
Eddy against the savage rampage of the wind;
Maelstroms of the abandoned in some last act Danse Macabre.

Unbridled minds are afoot,
Flaying spring’s children from wailing trees,
Wind shepherding huddled heaps
To the dark ditch tombs of the lost.

A dying year in arrhythmic gasps
Disfellowships the splendor of summer.
To atonement I turn, a supplication wind whispered.
Left with the dead, a hope for personal renewal.