FALL

fall lies within the final sentence of the year’s paragraph

like the smoldering ash of a semicolon, or the flick of a pen.

one leaf in the mounds of leaves burns by the roadside like

the many letters of a lost lover, set ablaze by a waning sun.

if winter is the season of solitude then fall must therefore be

the lonliness that precedes it as in a season of proper longing,

wind blown confessions, silent penance and spring’s regrets.

fall is but punctuation in a beautifully tragic form as its days

grow shorter and collars instinctively turn themselves up toward

the brilliance of an orange sky abandoned now by sun sweetened

kisses and warm embraces.

the charred remains of summer with its forgotten words and

guilty pleasures turn now like colors. now shifting,now drifting,

now depleting themselves of affection until reaching the crisp

translucency of winter.

JANEisnotplain 10.17.10