These are the days of skies that drift
Down to hug the canopies and lap softly at the hills.

These are the days of rain that flies,
Droplets suspended in the air that burst as stolen kisses against passing cheeks.

These are the days of flaming trees,
Fire that courses through branches to turn leaves into flickering embers.

These are the days of stillness,
A world holding it's breath, quivering with each and every heart beat.

These are the days of lingering dusk,
Cloying so thickly it can be sliced with a cry.

These are the days.
Autumn's days.

My days.

So if you ever wonder why
Don't stop
Don't cry
Keep on going
Find the top
Keep on growing
Try Try Try

instead of the thrumming of crickets
cockroaches
and the constant lull of the frogs by the lake

instead of late-night parties on the other side of the wall (didn't they know we were always in bed by 10:30?)
the drunken laughter of strangers
the foreign tongue that made its way into the dialogue of my dreams

instead of keeping myself up at night from the terror of
wondering what poverty-stricken, starved man might break through our poorly-fitted door to violate two helpless girls

my lullaby is the hum of a dishwasher
the creaks in the finely-polished floorboards
the purr of the computer
the cracking of ice as it slides from the dispenser in the fridge
a symphony of first-world luxury and comfort

i am up at 1:45 in the morning

and i couldn't be happier

Got the
lock and key.
Will you promise, though
whispered words cannot be heard
from

So long, and hundreds of miles-
think I took the wrong direction.
Beguiled by comfort
and another kind of
promise.

But did you ever hold fast
to Anything?
Could you...
to me?

some days the pen shakes
some days the sky shivers
and i can't see the moon bathe the backs of my hands
but i'm still okay.

some days my sight blurs
some days my breaths burn
and the eldest trees fall in the eye of the storm
but i'm still okay.

some days your lips still
some days your tongue slips
and maybes screech like harpies at the gate
but i'm still okay.

some days our minds fall
some days our space fills
and blackness towers and stabs in our skulls
but we're still okay.

sort of.

Ghosts of snows
swirl, slow...
fall humbly 'top
our heads-
each leaf
knowing
just where to step,
how to avoid
trespass.

Long aft
the idle melt,
facades evaporate;
leaves brisk breaths of
calm
while ghosts of laughter play...

So
Warm. Sure. Steady.
It bristles the skin-
And
I'm fine
just knowing.