I walk among the pines.  I walk beneath a range of stone giants that refused to stay underground and tore their way to the surface...and as they burn they scream your name. A searing grip like an Indian summer, refuses to let go. Whispers of lost lovers ride the breeze, it is ear splitting. It is cold to the bone as it travels down my spine. A time each longed for now but a distant memory in a ruined landscape. Blood red leaves rain down and rush across the ground in a panicked search like our hearts racing in circles. We are in an endless chase.

                                   This is the fleeting of seasons.

And now discarded, previously the only source of life, decaying appendages drift from their hold on ancient umbilical cords that once proudly ****** from the earth. A welcome slumber in a plane void of light.  These decrepit forms stand hollowed and hallowed while gnarled hands stretch towards the heavens in a vain attempt to embrace the sun once more...to feel the warmth one last time