Beneath leaden skies
of this chilled autumn; fields of
fallen, earless stalks:
the scarecrow's tattered rags do
nothing to block the cold wind.
Kyakuchuu
Author's Notes/Comments:
Autumn, 1977, seemed particularly chilly---not only the local weather, but as a metaphor for the cooling relationship between my first college sweetheart and I, and her apparent indifference to its failure.