It arrives with nothing to offer
like rescuers without a rope
standing on a jagged ledge
watching faith abandon hope

There are days of old men marching
in dewy eyed remembrance
days of plots betrayed
sedition and intemperance

Gunpowder falls back to earth
the sky defends the dark and wins
when October ends
naught good begins

The Sun tells lies on better days
much treachery disguised
with cloak and dagger tinted rays
it counterfeits our skies

Then in its wake the storm recedes
to back from where it came
for who knows where November leads
or craves it come again