Original Poem / Fall Nights

The white rain-haze steams up from the desolate fields,
and the puddles gleam in freshly-laid furrows,
but in the trenches it looks foul and polluted
like elongated yellow-gray cuts in the earth.

And the silence falls heavy and soft,
as if it wanted to the lay a soothing potion
around each gnawing thought, each mind that grew sick
in the relentlessly dreary fall nights.

Poem & photo by:
 @SteemSwede