The Fall

They ask me why Autumn has such an effect on me
but they don't see--choose not to see
gold shimmering leaves illuminating streets
bare breasted trees; the open palm of a hand
waiting for the sun to set and ignite willow fingers
burning charcoal into ember, I am a woman ablaze.
The once-green grass and hay highlights under the soles of my feet
beckon to be seen
and maybe the birds sing a melody only for Spring
and a ballad for Summer if they so choose
winter they hide in the warmth of a nest
but Autumn they serenade songs meant for child's play
Years have gone by, on the window
dew droplets of the morning, another day in October
overripe pumpkins and corn bellowing to be set free
smelling sweet like honey, bound for thanksgiving
sun-kissed tomatoes
and the full and faulty flesh
indelibly whispering my name

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