Isaac Hollander McCreery, 2 November 2016

Say goodbye to the days,
To the dry,
To the warmth,
To the apple tides.

We may as well wear
Wet wool socks
Damp dawn to
Dark dusk.

Smoke begins to enter our lungs,
And sparks to dance in our eyes.
Whisky hesitantly licks our tongues,
And love cradles our hibernating hearts.

The clouds gently awaken, turn over, and sigh.

The season of everlasting
Nighttime is upon