Driving down a dark road

in the utter darkness of November

where the nights begin to eat the days

and swallow them whole

like the Monsters of my youth; in a book I once read

we'll eat you up; we love you so!

The sky's an eternal slate gray and the air smells of burning

leaves, heat, furnaces, houses as bears lumber to their caves for the winter

As the mist creeps, sheathes the hill in fog

a few brilliant colors peak

from the blanketing abyss

a touch of vermilion, catches, the eye almost seems like the sun's departing shade

it's last hurrah

before everything collapses into the dark

and the Night eats the days