Leaves, wine-red, withering
to charcoal,
crisping into the foetal position;
hedgehogs scurry, nesting
for lengthy inactivity;
the sky a scrape of stone-grey;
a temperature relapse, a pummelled daylight,
thin ice at work, frosting
every window shut;
Russian doll raindrops pelleting steel car tops,
prickled frog-green conker shells, pried
open landmines;
you, skeleton trees: your leaves,
fallen fatalities;
parked cars: corpses, tyres buried
in foliage mush;
wind: prey darting,
howls mourn,
branches: grief-
stricken jawbones.

In the following months,
I remember trees:
still bare, still
emaciated.