October Evening

The pears hang heavy, gold along the day. Reluctantly the crisp wind-sharpened leaves Forsake the quivering boughs and drift away, Lost in the gathering dusk, the wind that grieves. Chrysanthemums, once red and yellow lights, Upon the rustling grass lie frozen, brown; Slow chimney sparks, fireflies of winter nights, Blossom in yellow patterns and are done. The year is waning, guttering like a lamp, Losing itself in darkness and in time, One with the tiring wind, the ripened pears. A late bird, shadow-blinded, fumbling home Cries loneliness through silence cold and damp; A whole world answers him, yet no one hears.