Red-Headed

The autumn is at last commencing in Worcestershire with bare brown trees and bumble bees - well the latter strangely absent.

And the smog from the car exhausts
Competes with early morning fogs
And the leaves turn to a litter of sorts
Making fine carpets for grey footpaths.
Darker nights for much darker times
Darker mornings too, the milk float's
Lights & electric hum now echoes odd minds
As the world rants and finance shouts
That everything is not so fine
With the fundamentalists and anti-Darwinists
And those that will never shine and
Who obfuscate the light.

The cold wind blows from the Urals my grandmother used to say, those forbidding Steppes are always swept, perhaps remotely clean.

Now the crepuscular light prevails
And a retarded God eventually cries
And wonders why he made so many evils
He finally shouts and successfully dies.
Humanity will surely follow him now
And kill everything honest and good
The enlightened will try anyhow
And do everything that they could.
But it's too late my friend
For you did not have eternity
The sanity has come to an end
The emptiness now sublimity.

The sun sets and the birds go to bed and the lights go out in the town, even the Deciduous are decidedly destitute and their leaves are not green at all.