In the Fall is an addicted man;
a bronzed, beautiful, golden-crimson leaf
falling perhaps
as an impulse or a slight of hand,
as a half-thought will to escape the cold
but ultimately, an addiction
 
In the Fall
is a view from a distance and a height
with clear vision;
and a flirty nod
from your most tortuous insecurity
to your least confident self -
 
smoldering nostalgia,
that sullen, sable shade,
is the headless horse man
and you are lost at night
 
(as burnt leaves crumple
and are swept around,
as are you swept)
 
In the Fall is
Death's anniversary;
the dance that follows purity's last
attempt to hold his season fast
er than the horseman rides,
rise, beguile!
a swollen heart -
a lion!
a bronzed and rusted bleeding lion!
a shiver and a sunken sigh,
an unseen, unheard wave good-bye