It pervades.
Invades.
It’s carried on the wind
To the furthest reaches
Of the eaves;
It beads the leaves
And ripples the streets
Makes irises in the pond.
Clothes are damp,
Rooms are chill
A clammy mist hides the hill.
And still I come
Through thunder shocks
On autumn nights
When no one walks,
And still I look
To find your light,
Red and gold
In darkest night.