I have let fall

In autumn evenings fall in a sigh like the slough of the plow
that cuts its line slightly idle
the urgent corn blades have skeltered brown
across the maple-red ringed field.
what hems the idle is just cold
with its taste of ice at every breath

the livestock warm the barn
these are just memories of hanging around friend's farm
the warmth of the animals I can still feel
and the sweet stench of their warmth
and their fearsome stupidity immobilized
as they watch and feed and watch
while the crap slips from their body
like the steam
rises
from the fields
again
each morning
these
are just
some memories
I have
let fall