All of the doors in the house closed at once,
a dread chorus of gallows trapdoors banging shut
in the wake of chilled wind
that trailed through the house
like ice particles stirred to lively animation.
The sky wallowed in its sullen, amber pall,
little drifts of gray leaves dancing away up the road,
to where the bridge swayed drunkenly with
each hollow, booming gust,
recoiling snake-like from the
bright purple frost of descending lightning.
This is the kind of rain
that washes seasons away whole,
shrieking into the maw of raw yesterdays,
all bent backwards into oblivion.
