Autumn Knell

Bitter wind across the ears and nose and face
enrich the warmth of every threshold's kind embrace

Musks of mothball, cedar, stiff and well creased wool;
long rested wardrobes yawn to stretch and wake

Steeping pots a'murmer in their scheming
while Kerr and Ball make safe long Summer's toil

Spice and cider, sweet and strong and steaming,
brighten distant hollow chants of logs well met

The final march of Autum's banners' labored gleanings:
Heaps of gleeful laughter, smokey ash, then naught

The spring and slap of every storm door come the evening;
pop and crackles bid still chimneys to arise

The knell of fading Autumn's cruelish leaving
ushers good and pleasant comforts in it's wake.