I feel autumn in my bones,
Tre-sap rises with my blood;
I feel the urge to leap, to run
Over cold fire, into wood.
Leaves are born like egg-shells
With scents of loam and passed time,
Wind is gone for moments–
Brings the blades of mountain-rims
Upon its current; it gives bones
The feeling of lightness like wings
Or leaves flying over rocks
To a bluff where silence rings.
Advertisement
