First days of autumn

First days of autumn

Wild when the wind whistles
shrill through joints and cracks
and shakes the dark trees
like a dog with a rat.

I hear the rat scream, the scratch
of branches against stone, windowglass,
the dog howl in triumph.

The darker half has begun,
nights will stretch long and full of stars,
and the cold will deepen as we look
into the face of space.