greenery, that entangled forest mess of autumn leaves
and fallen branches — the snapping, the crunch
but also muffled dampened rot
and the stagnating pool of rainwater
the treachery of muddied ground that gives way
underneath your weary feet (heels hurting in boots)

the smell of decay even as it promises new life —
that musk lingering in cold air
perfume of the ghosts
whose bodies could never hope
to decompose so sweetly.