Heartbroken

A second spring, every leaf a crackling, golden bloom
Their softly rustling, whispered hidden words were songs
That lured me shirtless and bare into a warm, thoughtful breeze.
I hoped that it might last forever, as I walked among the trees
Through peaceful evenings and golden sunsets, that all along
Were just the lying double talk of a manic, relentless doom.

Like dead skin it collects in nooks and corners, insectile
Leaving behind skeletal fingers to wave and mock and cackle
As I try to cover my flushed, raw skin, caught bare in its malice.
I thank God for light, for heat, for wise words that offer solace
For the ease that which this modern life arms me to attack
The primal dread, fear growing as the sun retreats, all the while.

Imagine those nights, breathless within, while the howls outside
Those musty, mudden walls announced that summer was slain.
Flickering candles in hollow lanterns do little to allay the fears
Of those who now must seal away and mete out nightly tears.
Chilling winds and driven snow will soon arrive to cover the plain
When the bonfires of Samhain are gone and warming embers died.

Long months are ahead, and I must ignore the hopeless wails
Of old men and wolves for whom this winter will be their last.
Under harsh beams or withering candles, beneath nylon or hay
In front of a television or storyteller, sanity's tested either way.
I hope the husk I hear in my ear is a new voice, not the past
Whispers who've told me sweet lies of dewey grass and lover's tales.