Autumn

Autumn draws her fingers

through her hair

scattering leaves

and yesterday’s dead

promises.

Leaving people behind

is the specialty 

of each season 

but they all do it

differently.

Autumn likes 

woodsmoke 

and soft darkness

the way your heels dig in

to the leaf mold 

of the forest’s bed,

she is counting your

footsteps. 

Soon you will 

have passed 

too far under the trees

to retreat

from her dominion

(just drink the cider

of her oblivion).

When autumn is done

burning you up

she will pass the cinders 

of your spirit along

to her sister

Winter.