The patches of autumn colors
engraved on the land
outweighing the brown soil like
an anchor sinking deep
every soul losing its will to survive
as it dries up into the color of the earth
the smell of the apricots and dried leaves, old vintage keys
rises up like grey smoke from the chimney
in a futile attempt to grab safety and
hold it in its sinewy hands
hoping that it would save them
from the beginning of the end. **(c)