Falling
October, and in some ways
I suppose I am in the October
of life, which is to say, vibrant
and changing colors and so
ready for a homecoming, keen
to gather with you, together
against cold winds, always
back here around the bonfire,
always wrapped in wool and
denim, always whiskey, always
the flickering contrasts, the
hard and visible breaths, and
always the skittering, the dry,
sharp noises, the piles of it.
And I love you, world that runs
and falls. And I love you, world
that dies away. And I love you,
world that stays, and in its red
remaining, is sweet as pumpkin
flesh, rough as bark, orange
like sugar maple leaves.
No comments:
Post a Comment