Colours mean less to me than
The racing winds of autumn.

But to feel nothing
While dried leaves cascade
From trees that have more stories
Than me or any building
And crunch
Under my worn leather boots
While rich, muddled scent of earth
Pours into my being- filling me
Up with feeling that wraps
Around the heart- tingling
Chest and head
And hair tendrils

But to feel nothing...

Is to find that the
Winds of autumn are
Starting to fade
But even if for a moment I felt them
Even for a moment...
Is all I need to keep searching for them again.