Hard Cider Woes

By Jon von Nottingham

This equinox onset
of hard cider woes
grows mold on fizzled
memories of relished
summer warmth.

Autumn cuts the nose
with dull serrated
blades of smoke,
bleeds the ears
with the dissonance
of crickets and jays.

Here, I heave ho
into the ghostly
wane of day,
sombered by dreams
lost
to the drowsy
echoes of owl calls.