It's just me and a thousand bugs this afternoon
Enjoying the autumn usher in the browns and umbers
The earthen kiln, ashes burnt like the ground, the trees on fire.
Decay begins here.
The sky is thinner, clouds inhale the last plumes of warmth
Circling in the cirrus above.
Propeller seeds and crackling bones of leaves
I sit in the shivering sun
It's just me and a thousand bugs
Scattering across my knees and arms
This afternoon, in the waning life of light.