There is a God of red leaves and of dying. <br />He traced dark landscapes on my window pane. <br />Spare and beautiful the sound of crying <br />Libations of black coffee, drops of rain. <br /> <br />Old trees clasp limbs, sing poetry together. <br />I wrap myself in shadows to keep warm. <br />Clinging to fantastic shapes of weather, <br />Comforted, still, by lullabies of form.<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-is-a-god/
