Literary Enclave:
Poetry Zone

Travelers shall not venture far 
Since sound of drumbeats fill the air
Sure sign that troops prepare for war
The goose flies across the frontier
Then the bird's cries disappear
And echo off, so far away

I am here, summer almost lost
Soon red leaves will fall all around
Dew will form a whitened frost
While tonight the cold moon shines down
To light the dusty ground, where once,
Across winding roads, far away,
My brothers and I made our home

Now leaves are flying from the trees
We are scattered, like all the leaves
Like letters tossed in the wet breeze
Will my letters reach their dear eyes?
Or are my brothers still alive?
Unsure of all but the coming war
My eyes will meet only the moon