I remember 

A swallow gliding across 

The moon's rising shadow 

That falls at the feet of my bedstead.

I look at the glow and the Raven black sky

And wonder of what's to come.

I remember.

Crashing it fell 

Into a birch 

Covered in snow.

Crisp white snow

Sending an icy death 

Across its rigor Morris limbs. 

That yearn for the sky.

So, the Fall

Leads to a still death,

And time passes on.