While grey days, with sultry air and rain
Alter moods of cheerful folk
Autumn days and Winter chill,
With bunchy leaves and snowy hills
Replace the sombre moods of men,
With Harvest moon and Christmas hymns.
But lurking near, no place on calendar
wall, beckoning to all
Resides the ghost of final season,
Ever present, ever teasing
When sense of rhyme snd reason fade to black
And genes attack,
Able Sable Dunmor, without staff or legion
Awaken dormant dreams of life
Postponing final Season.