Rewrite: October Sky

The sky washes her face for October
trees & houses stack in layers that tend
to the north, in a line toward November.
She opens the eyes & to each heart sends
a secret invitation; a token
of days to come, of darkness set apart. 

The trees prepare to rest.  Sometimes broken,
but never destroyed, they face the dark
without vanity; they dress in bright colors
then slowly strip naked to brave the cold.

The sky will not accept any tone of dolor,
she is bright, she is exceedingly bold.
Each cloud a token of winter's coming snow
before time falls back, & our sky must go.

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Rewrite of poem originally posted on October 24, 2003.