were leaves to sense
their fate
come season’s
shift..
would they cling
tighter
to
branch
of a tiring tree,
or just fall like they’d
been set
free?
poetry
i shade beneath
your petal..
cuts the sun
in half,
i weep like
dew..
coats garden of a
parched
past.
they said
i’d dreamt you
better than i knew
myself,
though i’ve held you
real enough
to sense your
absence
from my book
shelf.
smoke sick cars
squeal..
towards divergent
deadlines,
and i pray each finds
a one that
quells
its fear of being
left behind.
you wrapped me like
an old worn scarf
around your
throat
and
sighed-
as if in repose,
at home..
seduced by roaring
flame,
though you still
shivered..
though the cold
brought its
bitter.
i’ll take autumn’s hand
should she ask me
to dance,
in the splendor of
her vibrancy–
i’d rise to such
a chance.
let your hair
fall,
so that i may watch
it cascade
like raven
ribbons-
like moonlit
shower-
on the cusp of
your reveal.
in somber march through
dreamscapes..
i happen upon
dawn–
to find she’s changed
her colors
to oblige my reentry
and reverence.
sweater vest, you’re
too tight
and don’t flatter
me right,
wish that i had
refused..
second helpings
last night.
you, with your
rocky mountain smile
and scent of juniper
breeze,
on a frosty autumn
morning–
it’s just us amongst
the trees.
hands in the garden 
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