Autumn and her many moods
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as the sun starts to sink lower in the slanted sky,
my soul clings to summertime
but once i catch that scent of fall (one cool gulp is all it takes),
i know it’s over
december will be here soon
and my memories will shift into higher resolution
i know it’s over like it’s always been over
(and always was)
she was never staying long in this world –
it’s a kind of truth that only your bones can understand
but this brittle autumn air always chokes me with its taunting anticipation
it’s like standing at the edge of a windy cliff,
waiting to get pushed off
i would much rather already be in flight
or wrecked in a million pieces on the ground
When is your baby’s season? How does grief shift with the start of a new season? How do you experience the passing of seasons, their piling up?