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Night (Fall) / George Dance

Night (Fall)

The grass shone emerald in the morning light
but fades to gray now as the autumn moon
glints off the darkened waters in the bight,
a stray reflection of some lost balloon.
The trees that I remember as so bright
(persimmon, scarlet, orange, gold) at noon
have dulled to tarry black and ghostly white,
while round them heaps of curled gray ash are strewn.
So all has faded that was my delight
in early hours; now, sounds are out of tune,
shades blur, words slur, once-dear beliefs are trite
and everything that lives will die too soon.
Nothing besides remains within my sight
But these few pale reflections in the night.

---
George Dance