Frosted Mound Poem by Tyler Marshall

Autumn winds shroud me with its descending leaves
Brush strokes of color, red oak tree.
Nature speaks with many psalms
embellish thee serrated tongue
I know not what slips through my palm
But in my eyes I see your frosted mound
The skies cry but the people are calm
And every year feels like the last
Your casket lowers to fill the hole
Yet another is unaccounted for
To singe the tattered threads that make such a toll
For I perceive what is under cloth and cover
Our dreams make way down the face of your mother
I weep on this day, and the Gods shudder late 'eve
Now I remain in anguish, with no hope to love her

But my eyes see your frosted mound
The skies cry and the people are gone