DEATH TO THE SMILY FACE
This time of the year
this far north
crows swell the air
on the cusp of dawn &
lacerate the remainder of
night with their cawing.
They splatter white shit over
the sidewalks & parked cars
& usher in the
dim light of day.
Tomato plants wither &
turn black &
people draw into themselves.
Lush thoughts of
summer give way to
ice-crusted apprehensions–
frozen water pipes,
getting the wood in,
black ice on the highway.
It takes an excess of
endorphins or the
carte-blanche courage of
youth to override the
true message of fall.