To enter the forest,
To let it entomb you
I am autumn
at home in decomposition
Caught up in the white noiseof morning towards the breakawayend of an August
A furtive bud splinters the earth,silently forcing its way upwards,past all that could not containthe coursing of growth.
Her twirling leaves on windows tapped,inviting me outside.Unsettled, fall was on the run,the wayward wind, her ride.
A chill snakes its way through cracks of windows, forgot,‘neath spaces of old, creaky doors, wisping, weavingits…
The oak trees drip with acorns, squirrels chatter in the canopy
part seven of my fall reflections series
part six of my fall reflections series
Rising