Words From the Oracle

We are in our fall before the season comes Misting eyes and dropping a dandy heart A sullen silence around the bee hive hums History has no center left, facts fall apart I have nothing left for honey but my words Listening cleanse the eyes to see forever Soon the sky flocks with all departing birds Old bonds are unbroken, new loves sever But to come again in heat and passion and lie Cradled against the unknown of life's tomorrows So summer goes, and sweet flowers will die To bloom again as carpet for graves of sorrows. Soon gold will fall from trees in a gray misty shroud And all that was green will be brown and dim And wild grass will bow where the land was ploughed And wind will tap on its trumpet life's requiem