Persephone lingers in Demeter’s reprieve while the season hangs on the winds of change. The cold hands of Hades wait to claim a bride. The austere sky plays witness to a torment never ending. Pomegranate rubies seed the clouds with tears of a sanguine lament. The evergreen keeps its own council. It will wear no heart upon its sleeve. It is the oak and maple, elm and ash that will harrow, hurt and grieve. The bowered heights blush an agony of wounded crimson and gold. The fury of a sweet season’s ruination screams upon the wind to wail and moan and rend autumnal robes leaving only outstretched arms stick gaunt and naked against the darkening sky.