The Autumn Daylight Sky

Pure of any mortal mote
and boundless
                (but for sight)
:
The deep dry sky of Autumn
inscribes the shadows
                bright.
(
For what could dusty leaves conceal
        from such an endless eye?
What crackled branch could hide the earth
        from all-consuming sky?
)
Replete with light, devoid of warmth:
        a strong and wayward king.
His tirade… tires, bruised to black
        and homeless winds start prowling
.
And then the people mourn his sleep
and wait as candles
                quake
.
Blankets huddle shoulders
as they pray the king
                to wake
,
and waking, chasing night he comes
        to light the shaded places.
Stones will drink his meagre heat
        and men will lift their faces
.