chant d’automne
adapted from Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire
I.
The scent of smoke and leaves aflame,
The color of empty pools on overcast days
The early dark dawn its own sound
As I try to bring my life in the sun to a close
An emotional miasma that drifts like snow
Consistent as clockwork, unanchored dread
Crystallized like breath in air,
The familiar settling quiet of snow
Hunter and hunted as leaves fall away,
I know the trails and the havens
But my demons know them too,
They built this place just as I did
But unlike me, darkness is their whetstone
The rhythmic sharpening of blades
The only thing that keeps me tied
To this time, that dreams do not overtake waking
II.
Your eyes see everything, the lines in your brow
Show your attention to detail, your attempts
To curtail the worst of my pain,
Each year with fewer answers deepens your care
And yet you remain, we are well trained
In the ways of making do with what’s at hand
And you bestow your part with the kindness of a friend
And the heat of a loyal lover
These seasons change us as they do me,
And still our bodies fit to perfection,
There is enough warmth in our embers
To bring us through to spring again.
