Summer's End.

Walking the dog past midnight
in baited silence
as the leaves chuckled
and the wind whistled past the graveyard of the old year.
Change was coming.

walking the dog this morning
in the grey shroud of dawn
to observe the funeral rites for the day;
the sky, weeping and the trees, rending their clothes in grief.

In Requiem

There is no understanding of the end.
There is only the end, a mighty wall
Well watered by our tears.

Advance, paladin.
Ride on to newness;

Keep the beat.