How quiet it’s been getting!
I see the sun is setting
and once more earth goes plunging into gloom.
A hush beyond forgetting
spreads out, its edges letting
a tremor pass to usher in my doom.

The hills hold fast their shading,
their autumn colours fading,
and something waits behind them, deep and still.
No call of night-bird braiding
the dusk, oppression aiding
perfervid airlessness that threatens ill.

The road grows dim and hollow,
no traveller dares follow,
no spark of comfort tries to ease my load.
The breeze, once light and holy,
now mutters dark and lowly,
as I draw near the turning of the road.

And still, with twilight nearing,
no harbinger appearing,
I sense the weight of what I’ve long presumed
draw near: no use in steering
a course past what I’m fearing
for when it comes, I’ll know I was foredoomed.