Misty, Windy, Gloomy

Misty, windy, gloomy autumn
has arrived. The outdoor palette
has witched over from green to reds,
browns, and ephemeral oranges.

When the sky darkens and the sun
goes down, I wonder if this is
the last time I’ll see daylight, if
the world will founder in the night
and take us all down with it, like
a doomed Titanic, like Pompeii
daring its friend Vesuvius.

But they are only rogue children
at the door, disguised and eager,
satisfied for the instant by
another candy bar, a spare,
clinking coin in the dragon hoard.