In the stray sweetness of yarrow and starlings’ trill by dusk rejoin the fading without regret as the foot worn grass will receive morning’s frost.
And whenever that green yarrow fades then I fade in the dry husk of this autumn of fire this autumn of smoke and regrets.
Wake in sidelong sun light half hidden days under curtains of violet and scarlet leaves so soon will bury the moss inch by inch.
But I being the beast that I am will burrow through the moss past every encumbrance beyond hope and fear and finally find the freedom of one sweet day in October the air still not a sound but leaves settling into the detritus of dreams.