poem of late fall, depression, and coming winter

I walk in the last mournful rays
of November sunlight
their pale light
failing, so it seems
like a melancholy dream

I feel the cold chill
of air preparing for the snows to come;
my heart despairs of finding warmth, hope, comfort.

I have walked a hundred roads,
thought a hundred thoughts
and still it comes to this
fading November twilight,
of time gone, going
of winter's coming,
the cold blank whiteness
that swallows the world.

Perran Nov 19/94