We have left your swelter, summer, we are
donning our sleeves, wool and even cashmere
clothes that were made to embrace us, we are
responding we are surrendering we are
breathing starch and firewood
cider drip and lanterns
a long satisfying series
of auburns and ambers
slow warm destruction curls like claws
rising windy embers
we forgot about its music, its colors,
but its taste we will remember
We are so unlike the summer,
so unlike life itself, who is so
involved, weary, torn
We hide inside the time, the turning
bodies quietly rise, accepting
a natural escape route
comfortably curling erect like burning leaves
October, 2013