no. 49

My body is in October. 

It’s autumn inside; 

things are drying up and wrinkling 

but there are vibrant, ripe parts 

waiting for frost. 

The mood is grim and salacious 

and funny all at once. 

It’s a time to watch little ones hoard 

while I let go tethers holding me to ground. 

There’s nothing new but 

there are endless ways 

to see colors of the world 

and rejoice in its patterns 

as it falls apart. I feel a kinship with fall.

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