fall; autumn
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Each autumn, the leaves surrender in gold to the ground belowWindswept from indifferent branches they fed all summerThe waters know what it means to be battered to and froriver stones worn grief smooth by careless currentsin choreographed odysessys flocks abandon the snowand even the earth accepts the sun’s cold shoulderso why do I hold fast
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FireRed and russet brownBright as black letters against white Twirling towards blacktopCascading from an autumn burnt boughTiny as this stanza Carry me in your palmLike a phrase that catches alightIn your memory Press me between beloved versesAnd I promise to flutter outOne afternoon Brittle yet still fire redA poem to Fall
circular staircase 