Autumn evenings always bring
a pang of jealousy:
All around me things are dying,
so why not me?
Why must I drag my bag of bones
through yet another season,
a hellish pestilential void
devoid of rhyme or reason?
Apart from that, I’m happy,
the Caliphate of Cool.
As soon as drippy autumn’s gone
I’ll be gaggin’ again for Yule.