Drowning in Autumn
The end of worlds is coming.
There is no time to waste,
for time measured by the clickity clock is short.
Make merry of every moment,
as belief in the gilded religion of warmth is fading.
The balance of life is tipping and the golden brown mane
of the herbs of the Earth has already been sheared.
The odor of gasoline guzzling, slurping mowers
grows faint and blends and kneads
with that of dusty, charred bark and leaves.
This is when rain freezes on the tip of your nose;
a field of vibrant green grass mere memory;
a field of shimmering white snow weeks away.
Somewhere between when the summer giveth
and
Heh, I didn't realize where I knew your nick from, you're still working on 0ad? Looks like a great game and I'm really looking forward to it. (if it ever comes out. )