Linda Pastan, 'September'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Cross-post from war_poetry:

September

it rained in my sleep
and in the morning the fields were wet
I dreamed of artillery
of the thunder of horses
in the morning the fields were strewn
with twigs and leaves
as if after a battle
or a sudden journey
I went to sleep in the summer
I dreamed of rain
in the morning the fields were wet
and it was autumn

by Linda Pastan