I’ve been waiting for you
at every corner,
through every outside door
and into night,
there I hope you’ll be.
And I vaguely remember
your brisk cool,
your calm thoughtful moving motion.
You bring time’s elapsing moments
and the slowness of aging realization.
Future comes through the same
outside doors you own.
When I focus,
I see the decaying notion of
life in true perspective;
Isn’t that what I’m doing anyways?
Falling in and out of time and season.
I am always dying and being reborn.
You help me see clearly,
like the city shedding leaves,
learning her bareness
before beaconing towards light yet again.
The wind will rustle.
Age will come,
and color will transcend.
And I’ve been waiting for you
in my burnt skin.
I need a layer of your truth once more
to see life as it is;
Bare and rustic
even as time continues to tick me forward.
I’m better off clothed in your coldness
than baking in the sun.
Autumn, Send your harvest love.
Show me who I am.
Carry me with your fallen leaves.
And when you’re surrounding me,
when you’re all around me,
when you hold me in your brown and gold hands,
may the harvest come,
and I know I’ll be home once again.