“rage, rage against the dying of the light”
Photo: Deborah Klein-deJong
i say damn you, old Sol
how could you paint us all
in late summer’s gold
then just snatch it away
and then ship it down South
you’ve abandoned us leaves
forsaken the forest
it’s November, it’s dark
and we’re damp and we’re cold
well i’m brash and i’m bold
so i’ll never let go
drop from my skinny branch
give myself to the soil
feed the microbes and mold
no i’ll never be rolled
just cuz you stole the summer
i’ll hector and haunt you
so damn you, old Sol
