Autumn Rain

Retaining but some stubborn leaves, the trees
abide along the road like weary men
that are the worse for drink. The paltry light

of my slow bike is hardly strong enough
to see them bend their naked crowns and bow,
and nod and sway in some stiff dance -- a bit

embarrassing: a green tooth in a grey
and grinning pantaloon – but all the same
there’s still some life in the old buggers. Dead

against the wind I pedal on; the road
is slippery and narrow and there’s rain
in streams across my face. Yet if those trees

still see some sense in this cold season , harsh,
unfriendly, stiffening their joints, then I
should leastways go and give life one more try.