Autumn,
Where the sky dulls
And the grass quivers,

Where the ground stiffens
And the birds abandon their treetop posts
That scratch the sky like brittle fingers,

Where the clouds huddle together
To soak up the distant sun
And the where wind whispers against my skin,

Where the world starts to die,
Life falls back into me,
And the char in my lungs chips away,

And the leaves on the ground
Pad the pavement
With a crunch that breaks the monotony of these dry days,

And I'm home,
In the wake of the color before the white,
The warmth before the decay,

Falling forwards again into a rhythm
Of something old,
But entirely brand new.