Burning the bodies

From my window, south facing
In a heated room with a table
I saw the summer
Slowly strangled, by twisted
Cruel fingers of the autumn

I could have cried for those bodies
Buried in gold plated crisp
Open graves
Petals and leaves dried out lay
Fallen in death

With a match I burned the evidence
Sheathed in spiked shadows
Near the naked trees
As summers children burned
Nature turned a blind eye