Without leaves, tree
branches glisten from late November rain
reflecting an empty
light from the gray sky on the dead grass below
unshaven men in dirty
clothes muddy their tattered shoes leaving old cars
soaked litter lies
hopelessly where the wind draped it weeks ago
somehow the crows
locate calmly-moving death and gather like huge flies
off in the muffled
distance, an empty freight train squeals
muzzle frozen in a
grimace a dead dog bloats down in the brown grass swale
the dark evergreen
casts no shadow as a church bell strikes off noon
cold floors and dark
closets await behind the dirty windows
rusting metal appears
where the weedy shrubs long ago lost their leaves
naked lightbulbs hang
dim from bare cords in moldy stooping-low basements
old
pipes groan all night yet bring but very little dry and brittle heat
the light gives up
completely in what seems like early afternoon
the muffling darkness
grows stronger as it slows life every day
the mud grows hard in
the morning after the puddles have skimmed with ice
the sun shines wanly
an hour a week then quickly disappears
the nights are absent
moon and stars beneath a low gray ceiling
colored
lights are used to try and ward off the gathering gloom
cars idle inside
steamy clouds of their own wastes and the people stay indoors
now
the old, sick or weak fall prey to the first wave of infections
brown and rain-soaked
dead leaves molder in every corner
lifeless flower beds
sadly mock us with their current promise
sleep increases with
the length of night and tiredness overtakes us all
there is little joy
upon awakening in the gray and damp and cold
the lakes move
steadily towards freezing and look duller than the skies
far
off dogs bark away the dark hours in their lonely solitude
a howling wind springs
up to freeze the rain upon the pavement
women shiver and grow
pale as their skin dries to thinnest parchment
And castoffs walk the
streets alone, absorbed in careful examination of the darkness
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