October Sunrise

All the leafy-down trees have escaped
The rigors of summer leaving no trace
On the hot-wind days of no rain
Or the homes of bats and birds,
Giant moths beat at the window pane
The only light they perceive
Trying to get past the invisible barrier
To nourish them as they change,
All the grasses lie dormant
Drawing down into the Earth
Deep below the surface
Until called upon again
To rise
To become green and alive again
Yet alive they are in another world,
All clocks are rolled back
A feeble attempt at controlling the Sun
Which breaks the mist and illuminates
The webs of spiders having their last foray
Setting their last spider traps
On the trellises of the grapevines
That
Having given up their harvest
Are now
Giving up their leaves,
Bones stick up out of the ground
Bones of dead animals
Bones of dead men
Carried there by black crows
Who call out in worship
Of the rising Sun.