I wrote this poem after reading in the paper a couple of years ago about a homeless fellow that was found behind a closed down grocery store. He had been dead six months.

The Season's Mood
When leaves of red amber and brown fly through the air and color the town,
A cool wind blows across the sky and migrating birds start to feverishly fly.
Autumn is here and cold weather draws near.
Without the warmth and shelter of home, I search for a cover as I begin to roam.
It seems just when the moist grass flows and under my feet its softness grows,
Winter comes and freezes it away and cold turns the sky somber grey.
While wondering I see my search is through, though the cold autumn rain's turned my cheeks lonely blue.
There's a viaduct ahead where I can make my bed.
When the rain goes away I'll have elsewhere to stay.
I can smell the spices of holiday food as the city takes on a busy mood.
But I'm in no hurry, I've no need to scurry.
I'll celebrate the season with booze and no reason.
Then when I sleep I will dream of a fight where the sun wins the sky with its warming light.
The shadows won't haunt me with voices of fear as my breath grows shallow and death draws near.
When springtime comes with its sweet scented song, the city will celebrate the days growing long.
Only as summer's carefree fun takes place in the heat of its bright yellow sun,
Will the city notice I'm no longer around to linger where invisibility abounds.