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
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

endif--> endif--> --> endif--> endif-->