she lies in the curve of the crescent moon,
cloaked in blue mist,
drunk off the falling summer sunlight.

her dark gaze is lidded and full.

her voice echoes as a thousand crackling leaves,
landing all at once;
embers from their time-worn fireworks.

she tugs at the rope caught by the harvest
and drags him from the sun-baked soil;
his struggles shake apples from their trees.

graveyards are alive with excitement;
phantom hands reach up through roses
and lilies and melted candles
to wave hello at the spice-heavy wind.

the orange dawn light is hazy,
peering through the ghosts
lingering on the horizon.

and all at once, the world falls into autumn's grasp.