OF BATTLES PAST
 
        The night is warm and damp,
        heated by a summer clinging
        jealously
        to October.
        Lightning flickers a warning
        of the coming storm.
        Black branches sigh
        against the pewter sky,
        sensing the coming battle.
        Images catch
        and hold in my mind
        for the length of a heartbeat,
        and flutter on broken wings
        to the ground.