On a Recent Autumn Day
by William Ruleman
Flames of orange and scarlet foliage spew
From the maples now in silent, foaming spurts.
The sky above shines with an oily blue
Suffused with smoke. The nearly hot air hurts—
Conveys an eerie ring of summery June.
Unwanted here in this dawn of a sadder and darker
Season, an acrid, dry, and dusty noon
Surrenders to a surlier, mustier, starker
Afternoon that no one wants to navigate,
With all the assurance it gives of thirst and sweat
And odours of powdery leaves that will not abate:
A scent of dying one cannot forget.
Too long for Indian summer, this sultry spell
Lies, like limbo, on the verge of Hell.
